


The Summit

by AJ_Lenoire



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Badass Katara (Avatar), Comfort/Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fire Lord Zuko, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Minor Aang/Katara, Minor Sokka/Suki, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Vigilantism, Zuko Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-29 11:11:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 138,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20081245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJ_Lenoire/pseuds/AJ_Lenoire
Summary: To commemorate the end of the Hundred Years' War and to ensure nothing like that ever happens again, the Four Nations agree to hold a Summit every year. Two weeks of political talks, cultural immersion and utter harmony. As Fire Lord, Zuko is in charge of hosting the first, set in the Fire Nation capital. As war-heroes, Katara, Sokka, Toph, Suki and of course Aang are in attendance also.However, as Katara finds herself yearning for a life beyond that of the Avatar's faithful companion, it appears that politics will not be the only tumultuous waters they have to navigate.





	1. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year after the War has ended, Katara and Aang prepare to attend the first annual Summit. Eager to arrive and see her friends again, Katara wonders about the time she spends at the Southern Air Temple compared to the Southern Water Tribe, and what either mean for her relationship.

“Aang, come _on!_” Katara exclaimed. “The Summit's in three days, and it's a full day's flight for poor Appa. We need to leave _today_.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he called, running out into the courtyard of the newly-completed school for prospective waterbenders and healers training under the skilled tutelage of Master Pakku and Princess Katara.

Her eyes flickered up to the inscription on the archway. _Princess_. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her father was Chief of one of the South’s many sub-Tribes. He’d been elected as the South’s Head Chief only a few months ago, when her and Sokka had informed him that one of the many changes being made to their new, peaceful world was an annual Summit, which required leaders from each of the Nations. Hakoda had been the obvious choice—who better than a war-hero with two war-hero children, closely associated with the Avatar and responsible for defeating Fire Lord Ozai?—and the Southern Tribe hadn’t had a Head Chief in centuries, so, here they were.

The title was, of course, entirely empty. No one treated her like a princess inside the Tribe or out of it, and she was fine with that.

Sokka and Suki were already in the Fire Nation—the obvious choice for the location of the first Summit, or so Zuko had argued. When the idea of a Summit had first been proposed, both Aang and Zuko had fought hard for the right to host the first one. The Fire Nation had finally won over the Southern Air Temple by virtue of the fact that the Southern Air Temple was not currently fit for mass habitation. Next year was to be the Southern Air Temple, Aang’s childhood home, and Katara had tried to mollify Aang by pointing out that the extra year of restoration time would mean the Southern Temple would be in all its glory, instead of a hurried and partly-finished rebuild. Sokka and Suki had been in Kyoshi most of the previous year and had been helping rebuild the island’s village. It seemed Sokka was an unexpected wealth of ideas for various building designs, machines, defences and so on. According to a letter from Hawky, they’d left for the Summit two days earlier.

Ever since getting that letter, saying were leaving for the Fire Nation, Katara had been eager to go, too. Her time in the past year had been split between the Southern Air Temple and the Water Tribe, though not evenly, and she was looking forward to seeing all her friends and basking in the Fire Nation’s balmy heat, even if she did think it got a little _too_ hot, sometimes.

Of course, she enjoyed being back home, helping rebuild it into a proud, strong tribe that really did look like the North’s sister. One of her favourite parts was teaching waterbending and healing to the children—as it turned out, there were a fair few waterbenders in the Southern Tribe, but their bending had only emerged in the last two years or so; they’d been too young to know it before. It was heartening to see that the South’s heritage hadn’t been completely erased.

She supposed she had her mother to thank for that—_which_ was why she’d named it (with the blessing of her father and step-grandfather) the Kya Waterbending School. The biggest reward, however, was seeing Master Pakku teaching the young benders—how he had been only too pleased to teach the girls, too. That made Katara smile, though she reckoned her Gran-Gran had as much to do with it as she did. Kana had turned down Pakku’s proposal once before because of those sexist laws, and they all knew she’d do it again if she wanted.

Being in the Southern Air Temple was… somewhat less rewarding. There were already a number of people (nonbenders, primarily) who wanted to learn about the ways of the Air Nomads and even take up the lifestyle themselves. And a troupe of earthbenders helping to restore the actual building. With their help, Aang was helping rebuild the Air Nation’s culture, both literally and figuratively. Katara was pleased to see that his way of life hadn’t died out—much the same as she’d been to know that _hers_ hadn’t, either—but her time at the Temple was undercut with a distinct impression that there wasn’t all that much she could _do_.

She cooked meals, washed clothes, washed dishes—a lot of washing. She did chores. She played mother.

She played mother to her _boyfriend_.

It was uncomfortable to think about, sometimes. When they’d been on the run a year ago, she’d somewhat mothered all of them; Aang, Sokka, Toph, even Suki a little. In fact, the only person she could think she hadn’t mothered was Zuko. And it wasn’t because he was older than her, either—Sokka was her big brother, after all, and she’d played mother to him long before they’d met Aang, anyway. No, she’d come to the conclusion that she hadn’t mothered Zuko simply because he’d joined their group rather late, and for most of that time she’d harboured a thinly-veiled hatred for him. A hatred she knew, in retrospect, had been at least partly deflected from Yon Rha, Azula, and the various other Fire Nation citizens who had made attempts on her life and her friends’.

So, she’d been a bit motherly, but in a war, surely that was to be expected? She was as protective of Sokka as he was of her, and Toph was like the sister she’d never had, and Aang had been so sweet and lost, he’d _needed _that support. It was less justifiable, however, in peacetime. Aang didn’t need a mother—he could take care of himself, he was the _Avatar_. He didn’t need anyone, really.

And yet, there she was, mothering him.

Making things _more _complicated—or perhaps _unsatisfactory_ was the word—were the chores. Sure, last year, she’d done chores, too. But the others had helped—Sokka hunted (but the Air Nomads were vegetarian), Toph kept guard (but they weren’t hiding anymore), Aang practiced his bending (but he didn’t need to practice anymore). She’d done the cooking because she’d been the only one who knew how, and everyone else had had other responsibilities. Plus, there’d been plenty of other things going on. She’d taught Aang waterbending, they’d had to fight off enemies and evade capture. It hadn’t _just_ been chores.

It hadn’t _just_ been chores since before she and Sokka had found Aang in that iceberg. But now, so long as she was at the Southern Air Temple, it _was_. And now that she’d directly experienced what life could be like—the adventures to be had, the changes to be made—the notion of spending half her life looking after the Air Acolytes and watching her boyfriend be important, whilst she sat in the background doing housework, was becoming increasingly dull.

She told herself it was only some of the time; she could teach at the Kya school in the South. But Aang was insisting more and more that the Southern Tribe didn’t need her like he did; he was the _only_ airbender, but there were plenty of waterbenders—they could ask for some help from the North if they needed. He didn’t quite understand, she thought, that the North wasn’t just some carbon-copy of the South. They had their own culture, similar but nonetheless _separate_—for example, the outlawing of arranged marriage. Granted, the only form of waterbending she knew was Northern, because she hadn’t had a Southern teacher, but _still_. _Aang_ wouldn’t like it if she called all four Air Temples the same.

She told herself he didn’t _mean_ to belittle her when he said that she wasn’t needed in the Southern Water Tribe, and that he needed her more than the Tribe did.

She told herself that her boredom in the Air Temple was the same for Aang when they were at the South Pole, even though he was a waterbender _and_ an earthbender; he could help in reconstructing the Tribe, too, or teaching, or simply entertaining people. Even though he was the _Avatar_, and had any number of important duties to conduct whilst she was teaching the kids how to heal and bend.

She told herself she believed all this.

Aang scrambled into the courtyard of the Kya Waterbending School, a bag slung over his shoulder, his glider-staff in hand. Airbenders could warm themselves from the inside almost like firebenders could, so he was still dressing like an Air Nomad monk, complete with one arm and shoulder completely bared to the cold. He’d grown a lot in the past year. At fourteen, he was getting much taller—taller than Katara, now. He was starting to fill out a little, too—not enough to not look incredibly gangly, but there was a broadness coming into his shoulders (even though she reckoned he’d always be slender) and a smattering of muscle tone along his arms. His boyish grin, however, hadn’t changed a bit, and she couldn’t fight the smile that crawled up her face at his delighted expression, even though she was annoyed.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

“I’ve been ready to go for an hour,” she told him, trying not to sound exasperated. “What were you even doing that took you so long?”

“Ah, the kids wanted a ride,” he admitted, wiggling his glider at her. “I’m gonna be gone for six months, I can’t leave without giving them all a turn.”

She smiled wearily. “I suppose that’s fair,” she replied. “They really do like you—what do you mean _six months?_”

He blinked at her. “Well, aren’t we going back to the Air Temple after the Summit?” he asked. “We still have a lot of work to do in rebuilding it.”

Katara blinked. “So does here,” she replied blankly.

Aang shrugged. “Sure, I guess,” he admitted. “But not as much—you have the school, Sokka’s watchtower, and all the huts. What’s left?”

“We still have to finish the meeting hall,” Katara told him. “And Dad wants _all_ the huts to be rebuilt. They really weren’t that sturdy.” 

“Hakoda’s the Chief, Katara, I’m sure he’ll manage without us. The Air Temple needs us more.”

That made Katara frown a little—there were still earthbenders working on it when they weren’t there, still Air Acolytes learning from the scrolls Zuko had dug from the Fire Nation archives. “What about the school?” she asked. “I teach there.”

Another shrug, and a boyish grin. “Don’t worry, there’s not so many kids that Pakku can’t cope. Besides, you can teach them when we come back.”

For whatever reason, that rubbed her the wrong way, but she let it slide, and exhaled deeply, calming herself. “Okay,” she said. “I suppose you’re right.” She climbed onto Appa. “Come on, I want to get to the Fire Nation by tomorrow morning. You think you can make that journey?”

Appa gave a low bellow. She beamed and hugged his soft fur. Aang grinned,

“Thanks, buddy,” he said. “Now, yip-yip!”

* * *

For several hours, they journeyed in silence—which Aang quickly found both disconcerting and a little uncomfortable. He was sat in Appa’s saddle for the moment, Katara on Appa’s head. Her back was turned to him, her shoulders hunched.

“You alright?” he asked her,

Katara didn’t turn around. “I’m fine,” she replied. “Why?”

He shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. “Nothing, I guess,” he said. “Just, you’ve been acting kind of funny since Hawky gave us Sokka’s message.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, still not turning. “Just… excited to be going back to the Fire Nation, is all. A lot happened there last year.” She allowed a tender smile to spread across her face, and though Aang couldn’t see this, he saw her shoulders relax a little. “A lot of good.”

“A lot of bad, too,” he murmured with a slight frown, looking down at his hands. He missed Katara’s shoulders tensing slightly. “I know Zuko’s in charge there, but I’m a little worried about holding the first Peace Summit there. A lot of people aren’t happy that the Fire Nation isn’t in charge anymore—that Zuko’s in charge of _them_.”

“Well, what better message to send to them than this?” Katara challenged lightly. “The Air Temple isn’t restored enough for a Summit yet, anyway. This’ll be good.”

“It might’ve been if we’d spent the whole year there,” Aang pointed out. Katara turned to him,

“_Excuse_ me?” she asked, not fully able to keep the irritation from her voice. Aang swallowed, noticing his mistake,

“I just mean…” he said carefully. “If we hadn’t spent so much time in the South Pole, building the Kya School and all the other new buildings, maybe the Air Temple would’ve been able to hold the first Summit.”

“So, you’re saying my home wasn’t worth rebuilding as much as _yours_ was?” Katara demanded coldly,

“No, no!” Aang exclaimed. “Of _course_ not! But the Southern Tribe is coming along so much further, there’s so many more people working on it, they don’t _need_ our help, too.”

“And the earthbenders rebuilding the Temple _do?_” she challenged. “I’m the Water Tribe’s _Princess_, Aang!” she exclaimed, hating that word as she said it. “It’s not all that much but it means I’m their leader. I teach at the school, I helped Dad and Sokka rebuild. It’s _my_ home, don’t you understand why I’d want to help restore it?”

“Of course I do!” Aang cried. “I only meant that the Air Temple deserves to be rebuilt, too, because there’s so little of the Air Nation _left!_ We should be focussing all our efforts on the Temple. But for you, there’s still the Northern Tribe, and the Southern Tribe wasn’t _gone_—”

“Aang, when you came along the Southern Tribe was barely _there!_” Katara snapped. “It was a handful of children and old people, scattered into tiny sub-Tribes that barely survived. You saw the North Pole, you saw how large it was, how it wasn’t just a dismal little village in a frozen desert. Are you really calling me selfish because I wanted to restore _my_ home?”

“Not at all!” he cried. “But you have more than I do, right now, is it so bad that I want to prioritise the Air Nomads when they have so little? You have the Northern Tribe to help you—”

“_Stop saying I have the Northern Tribe!_” Katara half-shouted at him. She was standing, now, facing him, fists clenched. “The North Pole is _not the same_, it’s not a _copy_ of the South. The entire Southern way of waterbending was taken by the Fire Nation, and when I rebuild the South Pole I’m trying to give something _back_. I know how much the Air Temple means to you, Aang. How much the Air Acolytes mean to you. _That’s_ what the South Pole means to me.”

“Then surely you understand what it’s like to have had the Air Nomads _destroyed_,” Aang protested, growing a little irritated himself, now. “They were almost wiped out, and if I don’t restore that culture they’ll be lost forever!”

“I _know_ that, Aang!” Katara insisted. “And I want to help, I do, but I want to help the South Pole, too! It’s _my _culture, and it’s _my_ style of waterbending that they should be learning, not Pakku’s! All he knows is the North! Those kids should learn _their_ culture—and they need me to do it!”

“Katara, where is all this _coming _from?” Aang asked. “You were fine when we were at the Air Temple last time—”

“No, I wasn’t, Aang,” she said shortly. “And the fact that you think that really shows how little you were paying attention. I can’t _stand_ it at the Air Temple!” she cried, and only as she felt the words spill from her mouth did she know they were true. “I’m everyone’s mother, I’m everyone’s maid. All I do is wash and cook and clean and sew—_exactly_ what I did in the South Pole before me and Sokka found you. I don’t _want_ that life, Aang. I’m a master waterbender, a master healer. I like teaching the kids, I like going on adventures and making change.”

“That’s what we’re going to _do_, Katara,” Aang insisted. “As soon as we fix the Southern Temple, we can do the others, and then we can go and restore balance.”

“_You_ can restore balance, you mean,” she said. “You’re the Avatar. I’m the Avatar’s girlfriend. And it’s taken us a year to do maybe _half_ a Temple? I don’t want to give up eight years of my life being a housewife. It’s a life for some people, but not for _me_.”

“We could do it in four if we were at the Temples all year round,” Aang said hopefully. This was the wrong thing to say, and she glared at him,

“You really think that would make a difference?” she asked. “There are whole teams of earthbenders working on the Temple. You’re only one bender, and most of the time you’re teaching the Air Acolytes, anyway.”

“I’m _one bender_ but I’m the _Avatar_,” he replied, as if it were obvious,

“So you’d have me give up teaching at the South Pole?” she asked dangerously.

“I’m just trying to meet you halfway, here, Katara,” Aang pleaded.

“No, you’re not!” she exclaimed. “You want me to spend _all_ my time at the Air Temple so I can watch you teach Acolytes whilst I wash all your clothes and cook all your food! You want me to follow you around the world and cheer you on instead of going places that need _me_.”

“_I _need you, Katara,” Aang said softly.

“Do you?” she asked bitterly. “You’re the Avatar. The South Pole? Waterbending students? My dad? _They_ need me.”

“Not as much as I do,” he insisted. “There are other waterbenders, and your dad has a whole team of advisors—”

“Would you _stop that?!_” she snapped, glaring at him.

“Stop _what?_” Aang demanded, now getting angry himself. “Stop telling you how I feel?”

“Stop treating all my accomplishments like they mean nothing!” she cried. “Stop trying to make me seem like I don’t matter! Stop trying to _make my decisions for me!_”

“Since _when_ do _I_ make _your_ decisions?”

“Since _always!_” she exclaimed. “When I wanted to stay in the South Pole and help rebuild, you said I was needed at the Air Temple, so I came with you, and to do _what?_ Mother you! When I told you I was confused and didn’t know what we would be after the war, you kissed me without my permission, you refused to let me choose! When I wanted to go after the man who killed my mother, you told me to just _let it go_, and _forgive him_. You didn’t want me to go, you tried to take that choice from me! And you’re _still_ doing it! You’re _still_ treating me like some kind of… of _prize!_” she spat the word like it was acid in her mouth.

Aang glowered at her. “No, I’m not,” he said. “I _love_ you and I want you to be by my side.”

“There it is again!” she cried furiously. “You want _me_ to be by _your_ side. _Not:_ _You_ want to be by _my_ side. Who _talks_ like that?”

“You know what I meant, Katara,” he protested crossly. “I—”

“Yes, I do,” she cut across him darkly. “You want me to be your trophy, your follower. You want me to ignore all my own choices and commitments and focus only on you, because _you’re_ the Avatar, and _you’re_ the leader and _what you say goes_.”

“Well, _yeah!_” he exclaimed. “I _am _the leader!”

Katara threw up her hands, screaming in wordless frustration. Just then, Appa bellowed. She rounded on him, projecting her anger and snapping. “_What?_”

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Aang said at once, voice cold. “He’s just telling us we’re here.”

Katara deflated. “Oh…” she said softly. She hadn’t expected them to arrive that quickly. It was nightfall, the last rays of the sun brushing against a purple-black sky, tinging it orange at the bottom. But there, glowing with thousands of tiny lights, the Fire Nation capital.

Without talking, they landed. When they dismounted Appa, he groaned loudly, and a minute or so later, a group of people were running outside.

Sokka was the first to reach her, and for a moment she forgot her anger and just grinning, running up to meet him and accepting his tight hug. He’d grown, too, in this past year, and started to fill out. He looked more like their father now; more like a man. It was a little weird, seeing her goofy brother starting to grow up. The immature chauvinist with a club and a guarded heart seemed like another person, now.

“Sokka!” she laughed, and he gave her a final squeeze before letting her go, taking a look at her. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” he replied with a laugh that squeaked on the end, and he clapped a hand over his mouth, appalled. Katara giggled—she’d been wondering when his voice would break. It sounded the same, she reckoned, still Sokka, but it was undeniably deeper.

A flash of green then caught her eye. “Suki!” she exclaimed, pulling the other girl into an equally fierce hug. “How’s everything at Kyoshi?”

“Rebuilt,” the warrior girl replied. Katara still wasn’t used to seeing her out of make-up and uniform, and she’d grown her red hair a little longer. She looked beautiful, though, and happy.

_Happy_. Something inside her stung, painfully. She pushed it down and turned to another—considerably shorter—smudge of green.

“Hey, Sugar Queen.” Toph Beifong stomped over, a roughish grin on her face. She was no less square and stubborn, but she’d grown taller. Katara pulled her into a similarly big hug, which was met with a smaller amount of protest than usual. She’d taken to wearing her hair in two smaller _odango_ buns, but still went barefoot. For now, she wore her normal clothing; a boyish tunic and cuffless breeches, but for the Summit, they both knew she’d have to dress up in all that fancy Earthrealm regalia she hated. Katara was looking forward to dressing up, despite—or maybe because—Toph hated it that much.

“Toph,” she grinned, as Toph returned the hug. “How are you? Is your school going okay?”

“You mean the Beifong Metalbending Academy?” Toph asked proudly. “It _is_ okay, if by _okay_ you mean _slow_,” she continued with a sigh. “Metalbending is just a kind of earthbending, y’know? Like healing to waterbenders. Anyone can do it with the right training and determination. I know my students don’t lack training, look who their teacher is! But they can barely make a knife twitch!”

“Not all earthbenders are as skilled as you are,” Katara replied. Toph huffed at the flattery, but her blush made it clear she was pleased, and as she stomped off to greet Aang with a _hey, Twinkletoes!_ Katara turned back to her brother and Suki.

“Where’s Zuko?” she asked, and Sokka gave a shrug.

“Dunno,” he replied. “Probably in his office—the Fire Lord is a busy man,” he added in his trying-to-sound-wise voice. Katara frowned. She’d been hoping to say hello to everyone at the same time. But then, he _would_ have duties. He was running an entire Nation—one on the brink of civil war, no less—and hosting the first ever Four Nations Peace Summit.

A gaggle of red-clad servants then bustled outside, looking haggard and irritated at the sudden night-time arrival—Fire Nation citizens did tend to rise with the sun, after all, and that meant they set with it, too—and ushered them all back into the Palace. It was with a polite but nonetheless firm tone that Sokka, Suki and Toph were directed back to their rooms by one of the servants.

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Suki said, kissing Katara on the cheek and then returning to Sokka’s side. He looped an arm across her shoulders and she hugged him around the waist. They went off in one direction, and Toph, huffing, followed.

“See you in the morning, sweetness. Twinkletoes,” she called over her shoulder. The servants then practically pounced on the two newcomers, lauding them with affected admiration that was clearly at least partly forced. Katara swallowed a cringe.

“We have prepared a room for you, Avatar,” gushed one of the servants. “This way, if you please…”

“Wait, I’m not in a room with Katara?” Aang asked, turning to look at her. Clearly he wanted to talk more about what’d been bugging them on Appa. The servants all blinked, seemingly in unison. Katara found it vaguely unnerving.

“Well… _no_,” replied the servant who had spoken blankly. “Would you like us to change that arrangement, it would be no trouble, Avatar, really—”

“No,” Katara interrupted calmly. “No, we won’t put you out like that. Thank you for bothering to prepare us both rooms.” She looked Aang dead in the eye as if daring him to challenge. He met her gaze coolly.

“I’m tired,” he announced. “Could you show me my room?”

The servants all nodded, and two broke away, bowing and scraping. “Of course, Avatar,” they preened. “Right this way, please…” Katara watched them glide down the hallway, a strange feeling in her chest, and made to follow until another servant caught her attention.

“Not that way, Miss Katara,” he said. “You room is this way. If you would be so kind as to follow—”

“_Princess_ Katara,” came a voice, “Or ‘Waterbending Master’, if you want. But please, Chen, show the proper respect to our esteemed guests.”

Katara turned, and she almost didn’t recognise the boy—the _man_—who walked down the hallway towards her. His hair was loose, and had grown only slightly longer in the year since they’d last seen each other. But he was taller, broader in the shoulders, and there was a confidence to his proud features that she’d previously seen only hints of. He held himself with a surety she’d never seen before, and his robes—clearly meant for sleeping, but they were so unrumpled he couldn’t have slept in them yet—were rich and decadent. His sleeveless tunic was tied loosely at the waist, and breeches ended in fitted cuffs just below the knee. His arms, shoulders and feet were entirely bare, but there was no mistaking, even if he’d been a complete stranger, who he was. No other eighteen-year-old could hold themselves with such authority.

“F-Fire Lord Zuko!” exclaimed the servant—Chen—bowing low. “I-I was not aware you were still awake! _Forgive_ me, my Lord, we did not alert you when the Avatar arrived. I _beg_ your forgiveness, I—”

“That’s enough, Chen,” Zuko said calmly, raising a hand to silence him. Chen nodded and straightened. “You’re forgiven. But be sure to use the correct titles in the future,” he added with a warning tone. “I know which room was prepared for Master Katara. You’re dismissed.”

“Of _course_, Fire Lord Zuko,” Chen nodded. “You are most _gracious_, most _kind_, my Lord…” he continued muttering praise and bowing as he backed away from the pair of them. Once he was an appropriate distance, he turned to face the way he was going and walked off quickly. Zuko watched him go with a mild expression, one eyebrow raised.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured to Katara, when Chen was gone. “A lot of the servants are a bit funny about others’ titles—they can’t handle that the Fire Nation isn’t ruling the world anymore.” With a small, amused smile—it seemed so natural, did he smile more now? She hoped he did—he turned away from where Chen was headed and looked directly at her.

Only now did she see his eyes properly. They hadn’t changed, she thought. They were the same angular shape, the same orange-gold like flames themselves, smouldering with a fierce determination. “Let me know if anyone gives you any trouble,” he said. “You need to be strict, sometimes, or—”

“Zuko.” She spoke flatly, cutting him off. He stopped talking, and blinked at her. Then her face split into a grin, and she reached up, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. “It’s good to see you.”

He recovered from his surprise quickly, and hugged her back tightly. He chuckled against her shoulder. “It’s good to see you, too, Katara.”

When they pulled away, she kept her hands on his upper arms, and admired him. “Authority becomes you,” she said dryly. He raised an eyebrow, smirking,

“Really?” he asked. “I thought it exhausted me.” Indeed, the shadows under his eyes were still there, and just the fact he’d been awake to this late hour spoke volumes. He did, after all, rise with the sun, as he had reminded her one cold northern morning, surrounded by glittering ice and enmity.

“That, too,” she agreed. “Is that why you weren’t outside when me and Aang arrived—oh!” she said sharply. “Aang! Do you want to say hi to him? He’s just down the hall, I’m sure—”

Zuko waved a hand. “I’ll say hello to him tomorrow morning,” he said. “I’m tired.”

“Planning a Summit is difficult, huh?” she asked, her voice devoid of teasing. He groaned.

“Like you wouldn’t _believe_,” he exclaimed. “_And_ on top of everything _else_. I have to reform the entire Nation’s industry now that no one needs weapons, find jobs for all these soldiers, revamp our entire education program—and that’s not even _considering_ my political opponents. You know Ty Lee is a Kyoshi warrior now?”

“Yes…?” Katara said hesitantly,

“Well, she’s my head of security,” he said. “And not a week goes by that she doesn’t tell me they intercepted a would-be assassin who wanted to kill me and put Azula on the throne.”

Katara’s eyes went wide. “Oh…” she murmured. “Are you… are you alright?”

“Well, I’m alive,” he replied, then sighed and dragged a hand down his face. He paused when it was over his mouth, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Sorry,” he then said. “You didn’t come here to listen to me complain about politics.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she assured him. “Honestly, it’s nice to talk about politics for once. All I’ve heard for the past year is lessons about Air Nomad culture.”

“Sokka told me you and Aang were restoring the Southern Temple,” he said. “How’s that going?”

“Slow,” she replied shortly, but decided not to go into detail about how Aang had argued it would go faster if they were there full time, but it didn’t _matter_ because only _one_ of them could earthbend, and she didn’t even want to _be_ there full time because she had _other_ commitments that, _yes_, were _just_ as important as _you, Aang!_

She forced herself to exhale slowly. “Slow,” she said again, calmer. “Believe me, politics is a breather.”

Zuko gave another small chuckle. These were more common than before, but a full-on laugh was still exceedingly rare. “Those Air Acolyte lessons must be dull if you think Fire Nation politics is refreshing,” he remarked.

“I wouldn’t really know,” she replied, a little sourly. “I’m usually just doing housework.”

Zuko stared at her, perplexed, but he was an astute young man, and put it together fairly quickly. “Katara,” he said gently. “If you—”

“Don’t,” she muttered. She looked up at him pleadingly. “Please don’t, Zuko.”

He nodded respectfully. “Okay,” he said softly. There was a short pause. “Your room is this way,” he said, extending an arm. They walked down the hallway together in comfortable silence until they came to a door. Katara opened it and stepped in, and her jaw dropped.

She’d been expecting a large, spacious room, all reds and golds and dark wood, heavy, sweet scents of Fire Nation spices, crimson silks hanging over a plush, oversized bed with countless pillows, Fire Nation insignias draped on the walls, and tapestries depicting great battles.

But no. Where red would be was blue. Where gold would be was silver. The wood was all the pale, sun-bleached stuff found in the forests of the Poles that were fertile enough for trees. The oversized bed had a bearskin draped across the bottom half to act as a second blanket if the first one—made of white fur—wasn’t warm enough. She could smell something fresh and almost minty, and salt like the sea air. Hanging above the bed was a banner depicting the Water Tribe crest—the _Southern_ Water Tribe Crest. Out the window, she noticed she had a perfect view of the inner courtyard and the crescent moon high in the sky, its light shining off the rippling surfaces of turtleduck ponds. There seemed to be more than when she’d last been in the Fire Nation. Knowing Zuko, there probably were.

“You’re going to be here for a while,” Zuko said from the doorway, one hand on the doorknob. “And this Summit is all about the Fire Nation respecting other cultures. I thought you’d like if your rooms were… homier.”

“Oh, Zuko…” she said softly. “It’s _wonderful_,” she turned to him with a wide grin. After the day she’d had, hearing Aang all but denounce her culture right to her face, this was exactly what she needed. _Her_ culture, _her_ tribe. She ran back to the doorway and hugged him again, and this time he was very surprised, and hugged her back a little awkwardly with one arm, one hand still braced on the doorknob.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said gruffly, like he was trying to hide a blush.

“I _love_ it,” she corrected.

“Good,” he deadpanned. “It’d be pretty bad if you didn’t.” He paused. “Your father’s room—it’s on the other side of the hallway, a few doors down, but it looks basically like this. Will he like it?”

Katara realised now that this was going to be the first time Hakoda would see Zuko since his crowning, and only the third time they’d ever seen each other at all. Those previous two meetings hadn’t offered much time for introductions and getting to know each other, however. Clearly, Zuko was nervous about making a good impression on the father of his two best friends, and the leader of what he hoped could be a strong ally.

She nodded. “He’ll appreciate the effort,” she said in a decisive tone.

Zuko nodded smartly. “Good,” he said. “Speaking of, uh, respecting other cultures, I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

Katara turned away from admiring her room to look at him, smiling warmly. “Of course, Zuko,” she said, “Anything.”

He nodded, and his expression suggested the words he wanted to say were difficult—they didn’t quite convey the nuance of his thoughts. “The Fire Nation… has a lot of… _colonies_,” he said slowly. “In the Earth Kingdom. They’ve been there so long that they’ve become quite… multicultural, which is making the removal of the Fire Nation military forces a little complicated. You’re Water Tribe, so I was hoping you could help me make preliminary plans to show to King Kuei—a neutral party.”

“You want _me_ to do that?” Katara asked, frowning. “Why not Aang—he’s the Avatar. This is his _job_.”

“Aang will have a lot of other things to deal with,” Zuko explained. “And I _will_ run this by him, when me and Kuei are talking at the Summit. But you… you have an eye for this thing, for fairness, and you’ve never been afraid to tell me exactly what you think.” He flashed a small smile, the corner of his mouth quirking up for a moment. As he sobered, he added, “Of course, if you don’t _want_ to, I completely understa—”

“I’ll do it.”

He blinked at her, having not expected such a fast agreement. “Oh. Well… great!” He smiled. “Thanks.”

She returned his smile, though it was less awkward and stunned than his. “Like I said, politics is a breather. I think this is the sort of things I’d be good at.”

“I think so, too,” Zuko agreed. “In that case, I’ll leave you to rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Katara smiled at him warmly. “It’s good to see you again, Zuko,” she said, for the second time,

“You too,” he replied, equally warmly. “Goodnight, _Princess_ Katara,” he added with a small smirk. She grimaced,

“Ugh,” she muttered. “An empty title if there ever was one,” she remarked, and Zuko nodded.

“I thought you’d think that,” he admitted. “I agree. Master Katara sounds so much more impressive.” He paused. “No one’s born a Master.”

“No, they aren’t, Firebending Master Zuko,” she replied with a grin. He smirked.

“Goodnight, Master Katara,” he said sincerely; the fondness of saying goodnight to a sibling or beloved friend.

“See you in the morning, Fire Lord,” she answered, offering a curtsey that made him snigger as he closed the door.

Looking around her fabulous room again, Katara felt a wash of homesickness, even though she’d been in the South Pole only a few hours ago. But if she was really not going to be there for _six months_…

Lying down on the bed, she marvelled at the attention to detail—this felt like genuine polarbeardog fur. It wasn’t just expensive to acquire, it was difficult; _dangerous_—but also the homage paid to the home style of the Fire Nation. Silks were still hung around the bed, making it look vaguely ethereal, but they were blue and white and silvery. Great tapestries were hung on the wall, but somehow Zuko had uncovered creations from over a hundred years ago, back when the Four Nations had lived in harmony, and she saw a scene depicting the start of a great unity between the Fire Nation and what was the Southern Tribe. The _Southern _Tribe.

With so little of her own culture remaining, something like this broke her heart and gave it hope all at once. She wondered for a moment if Zuko would let her take it home; hang it in her room in the Southern Chief’s Palace (Sokka had insisted upon it with the excuse that it made the Tribe look more complete, but she reckoned he really just wanted a nice big room to come home to. Either way, they’d built it, and either way, she was just waiting until they had the time to build her a small hut of her own, outside of any _palaces_). But no, that would be asking too much. She could see the craftsmanship, the choices in material and colour, this was clearly a Fire Nation piece. And who was she, anyway, to start packing up his things like her own?

Shaking her head, she stripped down to her sarashis—the Fire Nation was perpetually too warm to sleep in anything else—and snuggled under the white fur blanket. Her mind danced idly, lazy with sleep, about how eager she’d been to come to the Fire Nation. Because of the Summit and all its politics and culture? Or to escape her duties as the Avatar’s girlfriend? To put off returning to the Air Temple?

Or maybe she hadn’t been eager to come here to get _away_ from anything, but to get _to_ something else.


	2. Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the others prepare for the arrival of the other Nations' delegates, Katara grapples with what being Aang's girlfriend will mean for her, and whether that's the life she wants.

Katara woke the next morning to the light of a Fire Nation sun shining on her face, and despite the heat, she was pleased to see the dawn of a new day. Her wonderful Southern Water Tribe-inspired room greeted her, and for a minute or two she sat on the bed, legs pulled to her chest, and admired the world around her.

The Summit didn’t start until tomorrow, so today would be a flurry of last-minute preparations, greeting many esteemed guests, and hopefully Aang would be too busy saying hello to all the delegates to have a chance to talk to her about yesterday.

Hopefully.

She got dressed in her normal clothes, saving the formal wear for the Summit’s official opening dinner tomorrow evening. It was, of course, all Water Tribe blue. A light undershirt with fitted cuffs, dark breeches, sealskin boots and a short-sleeved tunic that crossed over her chest. She wore the collar a little lower than a year ago, so as to better show off her mother’s necklace. As she touched the smooth stone of the pendant—always warm to the touch, for she never took it off—she wondered again if she would ever wear a different one, one that was carved especially for her. It was a tradition exclusively of the Water Tribe, one that had been near-eradicated in the Southern Tribe along with its waterbenders, and one that had been reclaimed very quickly come the end of the War. The sudden onset of peace made for many ardent couples vowing never to be parted ever again, and such necklaces had come into unexpectedly high demand.

Sometimes, she didn't know why she thought about it so much, though. It seemed increasingly unlikely she would be marrying a Water Tribe boy, North _or_ South.

As she went down to the dining hall for breakfast, Katara realised that, though she thought she’d risen early, the others had risen earlier. Sokka and Suki—of course, sat next to one another, each eating with only one hand so they could intertwine their fingers (which was kind of impressive given how much Sokka loved his food)—Toph—practically shovelling food into her mouth whilst she still could, before the delegates arrived and she’d have to call upon those so-loathed lessons of etiquette instilled by her parents—and Aang—picking at a plate of fruit and bread, looking like he hadn’t slept well—were all sat around the large table that groaned under the weight of all the food it held. Servants were bustling around the room, preparing for when the first delegates were set to arrive this afternoon. The only reason Katara and the others had been permitted early entry were because they were relatively few people, close friends of the Fire Lord, and one of them was the Avatar.

Sokka caught sight of her as she walked in and raised his head to mumble an incoherent greeting. When Suki and Katara both looked at him, confused, he swallowed his mouthful of food—so large his eyes bugged—and called, “Morning, sis!”

“Morning, Sokka. Hi, Suki,” she added, taking a seat next to Toph, who was sat on Sokka’s other side, and piling food onto her plate. Aang sat on the other end of the table and made conversation with Iroh, who had arrived from Ba Sing Se a few days before. Aang very pointedly did not look at Katara at all. But that suddenly became a much lesser concern for her when she realised she was ravenous, and began to devour in earnest.

“Up to much last night, sweetness?” Toph asked cheekily. “You’re eating almost as much as Snoozles.”

“Hey!” Sokka called out indignantly, though it was muffled again by food. “I’m a go’in guy, I godda ee!”

Toph’s eyebrows raised. “Snoozles, I have the best hearing in the room, and even _I_ don’t know what you said.”

“He said he’s growing, and that’s why he needs to eat so much,” Katara replied with an eyeroll, not looking up from her food. Sixteen years had prepared her well for Sokka's mumbling. A fanfare a moment later, however, _did_ make her look up.

Fire Lord Zuko, crowned and wearing his formal robes, entered the room. She took note of his outfit; deep reds, elaborate detailing and gold accents,. It was unmistakably a set of very formal robes, an odd choice, perhaps, given he was only receiving his close friends.

It was the crown, she decided, that him look like even more of a stranger than the young man she’d chatted with last night. She was so unused to seeing him in his position as Fire Lord, and had for so long associated any reference to his royal status as a sign of traitorous or evil intentions. It was a little hard to get over that, even after being his friend for over a year, after attending his coronation. Her first reaction to seeing Zuko as Fire Lord was to run. She wanted to run, now, but somehow she suspected it wasn't to do with Zuko being Fire Lord—or to do with Zuko at all.

Once the fanfare ended, a servant scuttled forwards—one whom Katara recognised as Chen from the night before. “His Royal Highness, Fire Lord Zuko!” he heralded pompously. Zuko visibly cringed.

“That’s not necessary, Chen,” he said, “These are my friends. They’re my equals.”

At that last part, Chen looked like he might die on the spot. “E-_equals?_” he sputtered. “Forgive me, my Lord, but such a thing does not _exist!_ The Fire Lord is a commander of the divine will of Agni! He has no _equals_. _Especially_ not—”

Zuko cut him off. “Especially not _what?_” His tone had a slight but noticeable edge. Chen did the smart thing and didn’t finish that sentence.

“Especially nothing, my Lord,” he answered, bowing low, but his expression was barely controlled frustration. “I misspoke, please, forgive my impertinence.”

“So forgiven,” Zuko muttered, and waved him away. He scuttled back to his place, still bowing as he went. Zuko then walked over to where Iroh and Aang were sat. “Good morning, Uncle,” he smiled, hugging the old man. In the short year since the war had ended, Iroh had lost some of his strength and musculature, but he was no less warm and inviting as he hugged his son-in-all-but-name tightly.

“You look tired, Zuko,” Iroh remarked. “Did you sleep last night?”

“Too much to be done,” Zuko replied, shaking his head, then turned to Aang with a large smile. “Avatar,” he greeted warmly. Aang stood from his seat and hopped over the table to meet Zuko and embrace him.

“It’s good to see you, Zuko,” he said when they parted.

“You too, Aang,” he replied. “I didn’t get a chance to ask last night, how was your journey?”

Aang’s gaze flickered to Katara, but she was stubbornly keeping her eyes fixed on the back of Zuko’s head. “It was… bracing,” he replied slowly. “A little disagreeable.”

Quietly, Katara seethed. Toph turned to her,

“You alright, Sugar Queen?” she asked. “Your heart just started beating really fast.”

“I’m fine,” Katara lied through gritted teeth. There was no point telling the truth; her heart was already fast, apparently, so maybe Toph wouldn’t notice. If she did, she didn’t say anything, only going back to her food.

“Well,” Zuko replied to Aang. “I’m glad you’re here now. Hopefully your stay will be more pleasant.”

“We’ll see,” Aang shrugged, smiling, but Katara felt his gaze on her again. Zuko nodded and let Aang resume his seat, and went to his own seat at the head of the table. Too late did Katara realise that was the seat on her other side, and she felt herself go red as Zuko sat down, though couldn’t suggest why.

Zuko turned to her with a friendly smile, and it was that same smile from last night, and Katara felt herself relax a little; her visceral urge to flee subsiding.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, and everyone—_everyone_—in the room turned to look at him when he said that. They all noticed the lack of a formal greeting; no hug, no ‘hello’, even. They all came to the same conclusion at once: Zuko and Katara had already seen one another. Privately. Last night.

“When did _you_ see her?” Toph asked, ever the first person to cut through the drama and tension and other things that weren’t worth the time. Zuko blinked at her, only now realising the gazes on him. He was so used to being watched by everyone, he didn’t really feel it anymore.

“I… last night,” he replied. “I ran into her just after she arrived and showed her to her room.”

Katara felt her face burn. The desire to run had returned, and the weight of Aang's gaze was uncomfortable. She forced herself not to look at him, and they all turned back to their breakfast in meek silence.

The seven of them ate breakfast in noticeable groups. Zuko occasionally chipped in to speak with Iroh—who was sat on his other side—and Aang, who was next to Iroh. Sokka and Suki spoke, occasionally with Toph, and when he noticed she was eating in silence, Zuko tried to make conversation with Katara. She replied, genuinely pleased to speak with him, though slipped out of those conversations the moment Aang either inserted himself in, or Zuko invited him.

Mercifully, breakfast eventually ended, and Zuko excused himself to conduct preparations—the first delegates were due to arrive that afternoon; Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe, and King Bumi of Omashu. Iroh also took his leave, likely to help Zuko, and Aang—muttering vague excuses about feeding Appa—left shortly after.

Katara was still eating, though, and a minute or two after Aang left, Sokka nudged Toph and swapped seats with her. Toph agreed, as it allowed better access to Suki, so they could talk Earth Kingdom business as Sokka leant over to his sister.

“Now,” he said smartly, in that big brother tone of his. “Are you gonna tell me what’s so obviously bugging you, or will I have to pester Aang?”

“No!” Katara blurted before she even thought to _try_ and play it cool, or pretend everything was fine. “It’s… fine,” she lied weakly.

“No, it’s not,” Toph said flatly, cutting momentarily out of her conversation with Suki. Sokka turned to Katara with an expression that said _well?_

Katara sighed. “Aang and I… had an… argument,” she said awkwardly. “It was nothing, really. We were just blowing off some steam. We’ll be fine in a couple days.”

Sokka frowned. “Katara, if it takes a couple _days_ for you to cool down, it’s not nothing,” he told her. “And, more importantly, the Summit starts tomorrow night. We can’t have the Avatar worrying about some spat with his girlfriend before the very first Peace Summit!”

“Aang wouldn’t let something like that get in the way of—” Katara stopped herself and scowled. Yes, he would. That was _exactly_ was he would do. He’d always somehow managed to have a very self-focused worldview, even as he dedicated himself to protecting the world and keeping balance. It was understandable; he was only fourteen—a kid, really, just like she herself had been when she’d found him in that iceberg. Selfishness was natural.

But in the Avatar, at a Peace Summit, it was potentially disastrous. With a sigh, Katara realised she was going to have to do what she always did; let Aang get his way so he could focus on his duties, without other issues to take up his attention. They could discuss their predicament _after_ the Summit.

As they were going to the Southern Air Temple.

For six months.

Suddenly, all the decadent, Fire Nation food she’d eaten felt like lead in her stomach. She stood. “Excuse me,” she muttered to the others, and darted out the room as quickly as propriety would allow. She pulled her hair back over her shoulders, out of the way, and as soon as she was in the privacy of her room, she was heaving to her private bathroom and throwing up all the decadent, Fire Nation food down a drain.

* * *

When Katara didn’t show for lunch, Aang grew concerned.

“Hey, Sokka?” he said, catching the Water Tribe Prince by the arm. “Have you seen Katara anywhere?”

Sokka hesitated. He may not have spent this last year with Katara like he had before the war ended, but he’d received enough letters from her to know the ins and outs, the ups and downs, of her relationship with Aang. Mostly it was her frustrations—which he understood; no one ‘vented’ their happiness in a letter to their big brother. All the same, those frustrations had seemed like quite a lot.

But he wasn’t in a place to interfere with their relationship, even if he thought his sister was still _way_ too young to be dating, even if it was the Avatar, even if she had saved the world, even if she was the same age he’d been when he and Suki had started dating. He was seventeen, now; almost a man by every metric, already a man by the Water Tribe’s, and that was the only one that counted to him.

And a man respected his sister’s choices. He protected her, but he let her fight her own battles, too, until she decided she couldn’t. Katara was a smart girl; she knew when to ask for help. She hadn’t, so she didn’t need it.

“I think she’s in her room,” Sokka eventually answered the young Avatar, but he couldn’t stop himself from saying. “She seemed pretty upset, you should probably go talk to her.”

Only as Aang was walking away did Sokka consider the possibility that Aang might take that the wrong way.

* * *

She’d only just found the strength to pull herself to her feet and wash herself when she heard the knock at the door of her bedroom, and Aang’s unmistakable voice.

“Katara?” It was muffled by the other side of the door. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”

Part of her wanted to smile and brush it away and say it was _fine_, because it was easier than arguing. Part of her wanted to send him away because she didn’t want to hear his excuses and be worn down into sullen acquiescence. Part of her wanted to wrench open the door and hug him, because she loved him and she hated how hard this was. Not just this one argument but _all_ of it.

She hadn’t really thought love would be a walk in the park, but she’d expected it to be easier than _this_. She’d expected them to agree about more, him to be a little more willing to let her have _her_ way, once in a while. She’d expected there to be fewer obstacles than there were—not _none_, but fewer. She’d expected that confusion and desperation that left her frustrated and sobbing on the bathroom floor would never be a factor.

But then, she’d never counted on her dating the Avatar. She chalked it up to his responsibilities and forced herself to believe that was all it was—that and that she was making a bigger deal out of this than was proper.

Aang knocked again. “Katara?” he said. “Please let me in. I want to talk to you.”

_La_, he was pitiful when he spoke like that; it tugged at her heart like a baby turtleduck. She hated seeing him upset; it was like kicking a polarbeardog pup.

So, she pulled herself from the bathroom and let Aang in. He stepped into her room and looked around. “Whoa,” he remarked, taken aback. “Your room is really nice.”

“It is,” she agreed, also looking around. The touches of her home made her feel welcome in the Fire Nation. For some reason, suddenly having Aang in the room made it seem less splendid, and she felt almost ashamed of the Water Tribe insignias on the walls, and wishes they were flames. Or better, clouds.

“My room doesn’t look like this,” Aang continued. “How come yours does?”

“Well, because I’m from the Water Tribe,” Katara replied, a little defensively. “Yours will look Air Nation.” She paused. “Doesn’t it?”

“_Yeah_,” Aang admitted with a shrug. “But there’s not as much in it as this.” His words hung unspoken in the room; _everything Air Nation they might’ve had was destroyed a hundred years ago_. “It’d be nicer if you were in it,” he added.

Katara blinked. “You want to… share a room with me?” she asked. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d slept in the same space—far from it. But the thought brought a strange sensation to her stomach.

“Yeah,” Aang said. “I thought it might make you feel better if we shared a room.”

She frowned a little. “Why… why would that make me feel better?” she asked carefully,

“Well, you’re upset because we fought,” Aang said to her. “I get it—so am I. I don’t want to fight anymore, Katara. So let’s stop, okay?”

Her eyes narrowed, but she sighed. “Okay, Aang,” she agreed. “Let’s not fight.”

“Great!” he said. “Do you want me to help pack up your stuff?”

She stared at him. “Huh?”

“Your stuff,” Aang repeated. “So you can move it to my room. I’ll help!” He reached for a dress she’d laid out on the bed, and she caught his wrist.

“I’m… I’m not moving rooms, Aang,” she told him. He blinked.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because this is _my_ room,” she said. “It was really nice of Zuko to give me a room, to give me _this_ room. And… I like it. It reminds me of home.”

Aang thought about this. “I guess….” he admitted. “But… won’t _my_ room remind you of home, too? It looks like the Southern Air Temple, you spent half the last year there, too! And it’s got me!” He grinned at her. She forced a smile,

“That’s… that’s not the same, Aang,” she said. “I _grew up_ in the Water Tribe. It’s _my_ home. Always will be.”

“But… won’t the Air Temple be your home, too?” Aang pressed, face crumpling. “After the war, we’ve been together. What’s mine is yours, right?”

“Of course, Aang,” she said quickly. “But it doesn’t work just like _that_. It takes time to make a home somewhere.”

He smiled at her. “Well, it’s just as well we’re going to be spending more time at the Air Temple! You can make it your home then!”

Katara bit her bottom lip. “It doesn’t work like that, Aang,” she said. “You don’t just decide a place is your home. It matters how you _feel_ there, the _people_ there—”

“_I’ll_ be there!” he suggested. “And what better feeling is there that the tranquillity of an Air Nomad temple? You’re high up above everything, and there aren’t huge crowds of people, and—”

“Aang, I don’t _like_ the Air Temple!” she blurted. “I told you last night, I… I _hate_ it there! It’s boring, and there’s no one for me to talk to. You’re always busy with your Acolytes and you only want me there to do your chores and cheer you on!”

Aang dropped her gaze, hurt. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way, Katara. But that’s not true. I want you with me because I _love_ you. I never want to be without you. I…” He swallowed. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore. So I’ll try to make you feel more important.”

That only made her blood boil; him twisting it to make it sound like _she_ was being unreasonable just for wanting to do something useful, something beyond housework. But she bit it down because she loved him, too, and he was the Avatar, and he couldn’t be worrying about her and their relationship when the Summit was on. She forced a smile.

“Thanks, Aang,” she said, and when he pulled her in for a hug, she hugged him back.

* * *

Bumi arrived before lunch, and had barely touched the ground before he was off to some side room with Iroh, giving a casual wave to Zuko that—though _he_ very much enjoyed that smidge of casualness, a welcome break from what was set to be two weeks of pomp and careful wording—appalled the Fire Council enough to make him _sure_ he was going to get another snide remark the next time he spoke with them.

The King of Omashu wasn’t to be seen aside from that, though when Zuko caught Aang at lunch—Katara was notably absent, and he decided not to think about that or its implications—the young Avatar assured the slightly-less-young Fire Lord that King Bumi was in good health, in excellent spirits, and very eager for the Summit to begin tomorrow evening.

Contrastingly, Hakoda, Head Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, arrived that afternoon, and that arrival was declared with _just_ enough pageantry for it to be acceptable to the Fire Nation upper class. Sokka, even though he was well on the way to becoming his own man, was delighted when he saw his father walk in through the front gates with a handful of Southern Tribe soldiers (mostly for show; Hakoda was still a capable warrior in his own right, and no one expected the Summit to devolve into physical combat). When he ran up to hug the Southern Chief, the force of his approach was such that Hakoda stumbled back, and nearly went sprawling into the dirt. He chuckled.

“It’s good to see you, too, Sokka,” he grinned. Sokka had grown a lot in the past year, and was nearing the same height as his father. As a parent, Hakoda found that slightly unnerving, and a little sad. But he was also incredibly proud.

“Hello, Hakoda,” smiled Suki, one hand tucked behind her back neatly, the other waving. She was leaning slightly to the side so she could see past Sokka. Hakoda clapped Sokka on the shoulder as he let go of his son and shook Suki’s hand.

“A pleasure to see you again, Suki,” he said. “How is Kyoshi?”

“With Sokka’s… _ingenuity…_ it’s flourishing,” she grinned.

“Excellent,” Hakoda said smartly. “Now, where is—? _Katara!_” he called, seeing his daughter run out of the Palace and, much like Sokka had, barrel into him for a hug. It’d only been a day, but she was still glad to see him.

“How was your journey?” she asked him. He grimaced.

“A little rough,” he said. “I’m not used to sailing the seas around the Fire Nation. But,” he smiled. “What kind of Water Tribe Chief would I be if I let that stop me? Ah—” A fanfare sounded all around them. “—our gracious host must be arriving.”

Sure enough, they all turned, and Zuko was emerging into the courtyard, a group of servants swarming around behind him like a flock of scarlet birds.

“Chief Hakoda,” he greeted warmly, extending a hand. The men gripped each other’s forearms and, with their free hands, clapped each other on the shoulders. “You look well. Katara tells me the Southern Tribe is thriving.”

“She speaks the truth,” Hakoda nodded. “It was slow going, at first, but we’re shaping up to what we used to be.” He smiled.

It was strange for him, to be speaking on such equal terms with a teenager; a _child_, really. But Zuko seemed a good man, and both of them were eager for the Summit to go well. And besides, he _did _trust the boy—the young man who had helped Sokka break him out of prison; return him to his family. He turned to Katara. “Where’s Aang?”

Though a Chief first and a father second, Hakoda saw clear as day the slight stiffen of his daughter’s body language when he asked that question.

“He’s in his room, I think,” she said. She decided not to mention to her father how, even though Aang had promised they were going to stop arguing, he’d gone off to his room to sulk about how she didn’t want to leave her room. She’d half-heartedly suggested _he_ could stay in _her_ room when she’d tried to speak to him after lunch, but he hadn’t been open to that.

Another smack in the face about how her culture was apparently not worth paying attention to. She couldn’t help but think it was the same ideology that had started the entire war—obviously in a much, _much_ milder sense.

“He’ll join us for dinner,” Zuko told Hakoda smoothly. “For now, how about I show you to your room?”

“I’ll come too,” Katara added brightly. “You’re near my room, Dad.”

“Good,” Hakoda smiled in a vaguely mischievous manner. “I’ll be able to keep an eye on you.”

Katara flushed. “_Dad_…” she whined in a mutter. He chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Katara,” he assured her. “You’re a smart young woman, I trust you to keep yourself out of trouble. Well,” he amended with a smile. “Relative trouble. You _did_ stop a war last year.”

The three of them walked back inside the Palace, Zuko dismissing the flurry of servants around him, and talked idly. Hakoda asked how preparations for the Summit were going, what was going to be discussed and when, Zuko answering them to the best of his ability. After the official opening dinner the following night, there would be ten days of talks, bisected by a weekend filled with festivities to ease some of the pressure and encourage multiculturalism. Hopefully, those ten days would be enough to talk through, at least a little, about every issue the leaders of the Four Nations were going to present, lay foundations for trade deals, and anything else that came to mind. After _that_, there would be a closing ceremony, a huge gala, and everyone would go home to make the agreed changes and reconvene the next year.

“It seems you’ve thought this out well, Fire Lord Zuko,” Hakoda remarked. “I’m impressed.”

“That means a lot, coming from you, Chief Hakoda,” Zuko smiled. “This is your room. If you have any problems, don’t hesitate to come to me personally.” He paused. “I… I really want everything to go well.” He looked at Katara when he said this, almost pleadingly.

Hakoda placed a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, not as a Chief to a Fire Lord, but as a father to a boy only barely older than his son. “I’m sure it will,” he promised. “Everyone wants this to go well.”

“Not everyone,” Zuko corrected. “There are a lot of people in the Fire Nation who’d rather my sister was on the throne—who’d rather the Fire Nation had conquered the world like my father hoped.”

“Those people are in the _vast_ minority,” Hakoda assured him. “They’re vocal, but they’re small in numbers. And just because the war’s over doesn’t mean I’ve lost all my fight. I fought to get peace, I’ll fight to keep it.”

“Preferably, there won’t be any fighting at all,” Zuko muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had shadows under his eyes, Katara noticed, and he looked a little thin in the face. Had he been eating properly? Sleeping? He’d been talking so much at breakfast she wasn’t sure she’d seen him eat more than a few bites. “Peace is a bloody, bloody thing.”

“Spoken like a true leader,” Hakoda said sagely. “I’m sure you’ll do well, my boy.” He then stepped inside the room and made an impressed noise. “_Tui_, above, this is wonderful!”

A smile broke through Zuko’s tired expression. “I’m glad you like it, Chief Hakoda. Now,” he placed a hand on Katara’s shoulder. “If you would both be so kind as to excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. I’ll see you at dinner.” And off he went.

Hakoda looked at Katara through the doorway of his room, then extended an arm to invite her in. “I think we need to talk, sweetheart,” he said.

Katara didn’t want to talk, because she knew exactly what that conversation was going to be about, but she knew it needed to be had, so she stepped in.


	3. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As more delegates arrive, Katara and Aang discuss what they both want out of their relationship, and what it means for Aang to be the Avatar and the last airbender. Katara finds comfort in an unlikely situation, with the help of an even unlikelier guide.

“Sokka tells me you’ve been having trouble with Aang.”

Katara was sat in one of the chairs in Hakoda’s room. Like hers, just as Zuko had promised, it was bedecked in Water Tribe colours and insignias, though she couldn’t help but notice that there weren’t as many banners and tapestries in this room, and it seemed a little smaller. The view, also, because it was on the other side of the hallway, did not provide one with a scene of turtleduck ponds, but rather the outer walls of the Palace.

Her father was sat across from her, a low table between them, with a pot of tea and a small platter of Water Tribe delicacies cooked as best as they could be by an inexperienced Fire Nation cook. She appreciated the effort, if not the unusually spicy flavour.

She blinked at her father. “He… did?” she asked, silently making a note to strangle Sokka next time she saw him. Hakoda nodded.

“He did. He said the pair of you argued on the way here—”

“Dad, we sorted that out—”

“Don’t interrupt me,” he said, ever so slightly firm. “I’m still your dad.” She nodded meekly, and he continued. “The pair of you argued on the way here, and that a lot of your letters to him the past year have included you venting about another argument you two were having.”

“I was just _venting_,” Katara protested. “We’re fine, really—I mean, you don’t vent about the happy stuff, do you? I just needed an outlet.” She paused, scrambling for a subject change. “Shouldn’t—shouldn’t you be worrying about the Summit instead of my love life?”

Hakoda raised a doubtful eyebrow, an expression his daughter had inherited and refined to perfection. “Nice try,” he said dryly. “But you’re not getting out of this one that easily.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” she demanded. “It’s none of your business, it’s between me and Aang.”

“It becomes my business when my little girl is in a relationship I think is bad for her—” Hakoda began. Katara fumed,

“I’m not your _little girl_ and this relationship isn’t _bad_ for me!” she retorted. Hakoda gave her a look, clearly referring to her interruption, but she was too cross to care, and he was clearly preoccupied enough to let it slide.

“You’ll _always_ be my little girl,” he said gently. “And before you start accusing me, I want you to know I’m not trying to interfere in your life or tell you what to do. I just want to know what’s going _on_ in your life, and I want you to know you’re okay, that you’re happy.” He paused, then asked. “_Are_ you? Happy?”

“With Aang, or in general?” she asked, as if the distinction would have any effect on her answer. Seeming to know this, Hakoda shrugged,

“Either,” he said, “Both.”

“I am,” she said firmly. _I don’t know_. Somehow that was worse than a flat-out ‘no’. Hakoda seemed to sense this.

“Are you?” he pressed. “I see how much you love teaching at the Kya School, I see how reluctant you are to leave. It’s… it’s admirable that you want to help rebuild the Air Temple, honey, and that you support him so much, but… you don’t _owe_ him any of that.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“You don’t _owe_ anyone your love,” he told her. “No matter how deserving they might be of it. You can’t owe something like that. Relationships… they’re a choice. You decide whether or not to be with someone, and it’s a choice you remake every day.” He paused. “Something tells me you made that choice with Aang at the end of the war, and that you’ve been going off that choice ever since.” He looked at her. “Am I close to the mark?”

Hot tears stung at her eyes and burned the back of her throat. She stood abruptly, muttering. “I promised Zuko I’d help him draw up the terms of the colony reformations,” and she left the room before Hakoda could reply.

It hadn’t been a lie, what she’d blurted to her father; she really _was_ helping Zuko with the extraction of the Fire Nation colonies from Earth Kingdom territory, but that wasn’t scheduled until this evening. Her father didn’t know that, though, and so she had a few hours to be left blissfully free of his concern in the privacy of her room.

She ran for it, her little Southern Water Tribe haven, only a little down the hall, relieved to feel the door close behind her and be in her own company. Her breath hitched with half-shed tears, and she leant against the door and let her eyes slip closed. She tilted her head back and waited for her breath to calm.

“Katara?”

She opened her eyes, startled, and saw that Aang was sitting in the centre of her bed. A year ago, she would’ve been delighted by his comfort, even if the argument had been about the exact same thing. Now she found only an uncomfortable sickness in the pit of her stomach. “Aang,” she said blankly. “I… how did you get in?”

“The window was open,” he said, jerking his head to the window, flanked by multiple layers of sheer blue fabric. All the curtains in the Palace had multiple layers so people could choose how much shade they wanted.

Katara nodded. “I see,” she murmured, making a mental note to close it next time. “Hey, uh, Aang? I kind of want to be alone right now.”

“What?” he asked. “No, I can’t leave you alone, you’re upset.”

“I know,” she said. “But right now, I want to be alone.” She looked at him pleadingly. “Please.”

“Mm… okay…” he said doubtfully, coming off the bed and heading for the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob. “Can I ask what’s got you so upset?”

_You_, she wanted to scream, _us_.

Love was a choice, her father said, and she’d made a choice to be with Aang. She had every right to change her mind, she knew, but she couldn’t. Not just because he was the Avatar and he needed her, but because she _did_ care for him, so very much. She couldn’t bear to break his heart. _That_ was her choice.

“It’s nothing,” she lied, forcing it down yet again.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It’s not about our fight, is it?”

_Yes_. “No.”

“We’re fine, Aang,” she added, forcing a tired smile. He beamed, and hugged her.

“Good,” he said. “I’m glad we’re not fighting anymore. I don’t like fighting—especially with you.”

His tone was warm, and when he spoke, so did she become warm, too. He loved her. It was a pure, sweet thing. Of that, at least, she was sure. He meant her no harm, never had and never would. He didn’t know when he hurt her.

_He’ll never know if you don’t tell him_.

“It’s just like Monk Gyatso used to tell me,” Aang was saying. “Peace is the way, forgiveness is the way.” He leant back from their hug and smiled at her sweetly. “I forgive you.”

Katara blinked. “Forgive me?” she echoed. “For what?”

“For everything you said on Appa,” Aang replied, as if it were obvious. “That stuff about the Air Temple, and wanting to stay in the Water Tribe.” There it was again, that sweet smile. Only this time it infuriated her. Did he _ever_ learn?

_No. Because you never give him the means _to_ learn._

She batted that part of her away, too furious for logic, and glared at him. “_You _forgive _me?_” she cried. “For _what?_ I didn’t _do_ anything! I didn’t do anything except tell you how I felt, what _I_ wanted to do. And just because that doesn’t line up with what _you_ want to do, it’s suddenly something you need to _forgive_ me for?”

“What—?” Aang began. “I know you didn’t _mean_ anything by it, Katara, but you said you wanted to spend your time in the Water Tribe, and—”

“Of _course_ I want to spend my time in the Water Tribe!” she cried. “it’s my _home_, Aang. Just like the Air Temple is yours. How would you like it if I wanted you to be in the Water Tribe all the time?”

“That’s _different_,” Aang protested,

“Really? _How_, Aang? How is it different?”

“Because I’m me and you’re you!” he exclaimed. “I’m the Avatar, I’m the _last_ airbender. You’re not the last waterbender. It’s more important we’re at the Air Temple, reconstructing the _Air_ Nomad culture, it—”

“Ugh, _listen_ to yourself!” she snapped. “Look, Aang, I get it, okay? I get how important it is to you that we rebuild the Air Nation. And I want to help you with it, I _do_, but I _can’t_. All I do there is your cooking and your cleaning. I can’t teach Acolytes, I can’t airbend, I can’t rebuild, I can’t even waterbend usefully because we’re a million miles up on top of a mountain! You don’t _need_ me, Aang.”

He looked hurt and horrified. “I _do_ need you,” he said softly. “I’ll _always_ needs you.”

“No, you don’t,” she said hollowly. “You _want_ me. There’s a difference. There are people in the world, Aang. People who can’t bend, who don’t have centuries upon centuries of spirits to guide them.” In her mind, a painted face and a veiled hat beguiled her. She smiled. Sokka’s pragmatic and cold refusal, Aang’s silence and crude jokes infuriated her. She frowned.

“So they mean more to you than me?” he asked. “Katara, I’m your _boyfriend_—”

“And I’m your _girlfriend_,” she countered. “Can’t you, for _once_ in your life, cheer _me_ on? Support _me?_ You never listen to me, Aang, _never_. Not unless it lines up with exactly what_ you_ want to do, what _you_ want to say, what _you_ believe!”

“That’s not true!” he cried, “I listen, I—”

“No, you _don’t_,” she said roughly. “Just now, I asked you to leave me alone, and you’re still here!”

“Because I wanted to know you were okay!” he said, and she yelled in wordless frustration,

“And I _told_ you, I want to be alone!”

“_Why?_” he demanded. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Because you won’t _listen_ to me!” she exclaimed, “That’s the problem, that’s _always_ been our problem! You lost the ability to go into the Avatar State because you _never listen_ to anyone, only yourself, only what _you_ want! You almost revealed yourself to the Fire Nation after—” her voice caught, she swallowed, for a number of reasons. Memories flooded her mind. Green light and rage. Rough skin beneath her fingertips and a tentative connection. A flash of impossibly bright light and a limp body in her arms. “—after Ba Sing Se. You almost got yourself killed and revealed because you were so intent on proving something that didn’t need proven! After Sokka and me and _everyone_ told you we needed to lay low! You _never_ listen to _anyone_—only until it nearly gets you _killed!_”

Once the words had come, they’d been impossible to stop, spilling from her as though they were a river held back by the weakest of dams. The worst part is that they were true, but they hadn’t always been so enraged. In pushing them down, swallowing them and forcing comforting smiles, encouraging smiles, tired smiles, _so many goddamn smiles_, they’d festered into something truly hateful.

The hurt on Aang’s face was too much to bear, and her shame was such that she turned and ran out of the room. Even though it was _her_ room and _her _culture on its walls, she needed to get out, because of the boy standing there, looking so lost and so confused, because in his mind, all of this had come from nowhere.

She ran, and, not wanting to face her father, she turned sharply in the other direction, vision blurred with tears, wanting nothing more than to find a small room to cry in, away from the prying eyes of blabby brothers and nosy fathers and childish boyfriends—

“_Oof!_”

Katara barrelled into something in the middle of the hallway, something solid and warm and capable of noise. Unprepared, she bounced off the object and stumbled backwards, landing on the floor with a wince. Looking up through tear-blurred vision, she saw the unmistakable form of Zuko peering down at her, concern marring his face.

“Oh, great,” she muttered dejectedly. “What do _you_ want?”

He blinked at her, and annoyance crossed his face; the knee-jerk irritation of her tone. Even a year later, friends as they were, they were prone to arguments. The result of two very strong personalities, she supposed.

But it was gone a moment later, in light of her obvious upset. He extended a hand. “I’d settle for knowing why you were running through my Palace, crying,” he said neutrally. Katara took his hand with one of her own, and as he pulled her to her feet, wiped roughly at her eyes with the other.

“It’s nothing,” she muttered, dropping his hand quickly, like it burned her. He was, to be fair, perpetually very warm to the touch, but not painfully so. Even so, her action would have left one believing she’d been stung, as if by a nettlethorn. Or lightning.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but don’t lie to me,” he said briskly, but a blunt manner didn’t endear him to others as much as when Toph did it. Katara glowered at him,

“It’s nothing to do _with you_,” she amended crossly. “Just… _stay out of it_, Zuko!” she snapped, and took off down the hallway again. Zuko watched her, concerned, but let her go, and headed towards his office. They were due to go over some plans that evening, and he wondered if she would remember. And if she would show up if she did.

* * *

Zuko’s question was answered later that night, when Katara failed to show up for the arrival of Chief Arnook of the Northern Tribe (who bore some residual contempt for the Fire Nation, seeing as it had been Admiral Zhao who’d effectively caused his daughter, Yue, to die. Luckily, he was a kind-hearted man uninclined towards vengeance, and he had nothing but respect for the Dragon of the West, General Iroh), Earth King Kuei (with whom Zuko was attempting to negotiate the removal of the Fire Nation colonies from the Earth Kingdom), and the last evening meal their close-knit group of friends would have before the hustle and bustle of the Summit’s opening tomorrow. He didn’t know whether he was surprised or not—he would’ve expected this tactic of avoidance more from Aang, but then, Aang was at dinner, looking peaked and a little irritated. Toph attempted to make conversation, but his engagement was minimal and lacking his normal energy. Eventually, the metalbender’s patience snapped, and she grabbed the Avatar by his collar and dragged him out into the hallway.

“Alright, I’ve had it up to _here_ with your moping!” she announced. “Now you’re gonna tell me what’s got you so down in the dumps or so help me I’ll go Earth Rumble on your tattooed butt!”

“It’s nothing,” Aang told her with a scowl. “I’m fine.”

Toph frowned. “You know I can tell when people are lying, right?” she asked. Aang sighed,

“Me and Katara had a fight,” he muttered. “She…” he swallowed. “She said she hated living at the Air Temple, and that she doesn’t want to stay there.”

“Oh,” Toph murmured. “Sorry to hear that, Twinkletoes. Did… did you try talking to her?”

“Of _course_ I did!” Aang cried. “But that only made things worse!”

“Did you try listening to her?”

He blinked. “Obviously I was listening to her,” he said. “How else would I know what’s bothering her?”

“Well, I’m no expert on healthy communication,” Toph said in a blasé tone. “But it seems to me that if talking doesn’t make something better, then you should probably do more listening.” She fixed him with a stern look of her cloudy green eyes. “None of you _ever_ do enough listening, especially you. Always floating around—at least Snoozles knows how to track something.”

“You… you think I haven’t been listening to Katara?” Aang asked in a small tone,

“I have no idea,” Toph replied. “But Sokka spoke to her at breakfast and she was pretty riled about _something_.”

Aang remembered Zuko asking about their journey—then remembered how the Fire Lord had sat beside Katara and spoken of how they’d talked, _alone_, the previous night. He frowned, and pushed the thought away; no, that was absurd. Katara was a friend of Zuko’s, they all were, but she could never _love_ Zuko, not like she loved _him_. He was the Avatar.

“I should go talk to her,” he murmured, and Toph slapped him upside the head,

“Wrong!” she announced. “You should go _listen_ to her. And don’t just hear her words and wait for your turn to talk, _really_ listen. One problem with Sugar Queen is that she’s always been afraid of hurting your feelings, she never talks straight with you, so you gotta pay _extra_ attention. Got it?”

Numbly, Aang nodded, and went to go to Katara’s room, but Toph grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back. “Wrong again,” she said. “Let her have some time to herself. If you don’t let her breathe, you’ll make things worse no matter _what_ you do. I’d say wait until the moon’s out.”

The moon. Yue. Katara was always happier and calmer in the presence of the moon. Of course, she was also much more powerful, but she couldn’t do anything to overpower _him_. She wouldn’t ever try to, anyway.

“Alright,” he conceded, and allowed Toph to lead him back into the dining hall. As he sat down, he noticed another glaring absence of their circle of friends. Zuko was gone.

* * *

_One Year Ago_

“That’s a strange metal,” said the newly-crowned Fire Lord as he examined Sokka’s weapon. He looked down it with piercing amber eyes, slightly wide with fascination. Sokka, a Master Swordsman and soon to be a Southern Prince, grinned proudly. Both were dressed in the green robes of the Earth Kingdom, indulging in some hard-earned peace.

“It’s a _space_ sword,” he said. “I dunno exactly what it’s made of—even Toph doesn’t, really—but it’s got some weird properties.”

Zuko held the sword upright, eyes raking up the blade. “Can she bend it?” he asked.

Sokka nodded. “I gave her a chunk to practice on,” he said. “She made an armband out of it.”

In the hand not holding a sword, Zuko conjured a small flame, and held it up to the blade. It looked almost like it was ‘collecting’ the heat, and as he slowly moved his hand up its length, it began to glow, and when he took his hand away, it was orange and almost pulsing.

“Huh,” remarked Sokka, blue eyes wide and intrigued. “A flaming sword. Cool.”

“You should see if you sister can make an ice-sword for you,” replied Zuko, handing the weapon back. Sokka took it, and was startled to find the hilt cool to the touch. “A nice shape,” he admitted. “But I prefer to work with a pair.”

“I meant to ask,” said Sokka. “How do you know how to use dao swords? I thought Fire Lords were only taught how to use… fire.” He smirked a little. “Aren’t there some nobles who think the great Fire Lord Zuko is doing himself a disservice?”

“Some,” Zuko agreed. “And it _is_ unusual. But I was a weak firebender as a kid, so my father didn’t really care. My mother hired a swordmaster—Piandao—to teach me.”

“Piandao?” echoed Sokka. “No way! He trained me, too! Helped me forge this.”

“I thought I recognised his work,” Zuko remarked, vaguely amused. “I didn’t know he taught outside the Fire Nation.”

“Well, I was _in_ the Fire Nation at the time,” admitted the other boy; remembering the guilt he’d felt as he’d refused his sword on grounds of having lied; the rush of adrenaline in their epic sword battle; the relief and delight when, even with all his deception (failed or otherwise) laid bare, he’d been presented with his ‘space sword’. “But,” he then added, puffing out his chest with overdramatic pomp. “He just couldn’t say no when faced with the chance to teach Sokka, son of Hakoda!”

Zuko rolled his eyes, but a tired smile touched the corner of his mouth. Sokka was a brother to more than just his little sister—to Aang, and even to Zuko himself, in a way. He liked that, though; he’d missed having a brother. Maybe not in blood, but Lu Ten had definitely been his brother. Something about Sokka’s demeanour—not his goofiness, but his command and resolve under pressure and in the face of adversity—reminded him of his dear cousin.

As the two young men bonded over swordmasters and weaponry, Katara and Aang were stood outside on the balcony, arms wrapped around one another, watching the sunset with contented smiles.

“I’m glad it’s over,” Katara said softly, slowly tracking the sun’s descent.

“Me, too,” Aang agreed. He turned to her. “When we go back to the South Pole, maybe we can go penguin sledding?”

She giggled and hugged him tight. “That sounds wonderful, Aang,” she told him, then turned to him her expression almost shy. “Would we go just the two of us, like last time? Or would we invite the others?”

Aang thought about this a moment. “Well, as funny as it _would_ be to see Zuko try penguin sledding…” he admitted amusedly, and they both shared a laugh at that mental image—Zuko, swaddled in blue Water Tribe furs, screaming in terror as he struggled to keep hold of flippers, shouting furious directions. “I like that it’s something just for us. Y’know?”

She nodded. “I do know,” she replied. Her eyes glittered with anticipation; returning _home_. Without the fear of the Southern Raiders hanging over her head, or Ozai, or _anything_. Being able to help Gran-Gran and Master Pakku and Sokka and Hakoda rebuild the Tribe—no doubt Sokka would want to start with his watchtower. Introducing everyone to Toph and Suki, _re_introducing Zuko—would Gran-Gran scold him for his awful manners? Probably. And knowing Zuko, he’d kneel before her and humbly beg his forgiveness. No doubt Aang would get a fierce hug, be formally unbanished—because they’d never actually done that before leaving, now that she thought about it.

She sighed happily, giving Aang another squeeze, and giggling when he kissed her cheek. A world of possibilities for the pair of them; so much to do, so many people to help. She couldn’t wait to start.

* * *

There were many aspects of Fire Nation tradition that, after three years of travel and exile, Zuko had come to find faintly disturbing. The Fire Lady’s chambers, for example. Separate rooms for her, connected by a single door in the Fire Lord’s bedchamber, the door only able to be opened from his end. That wasn’t the only entrance—it would be little more than a lavish cell if so—but it was still… uncomfortable. The Fire Lady was ever and only at her husband's whim. Ever a servant.

Those rooms had been empty since the disappearance of Fire Lady Ursa. The closest they’d come to being used had been when Mai had kept extra clothes there, but she hadn’t done _that_ since before she’d left…

The thought brought a stab of pain to Zuko’s chest, and he stifled a groan as though the pain were real and tangible. But if he could feel it, wasn’t that real enough?

He’d excused himself from dinner when Toph had dragged Aang out of the room, the tension between their friendship group only mounting with each moment passed. Everyone knew things were… _troubled_ between Katara and Aang, and he had enough on his plate planning this Summit without having to deal with his best friends’ relationship drama. At least Sokka and Suki, whilst being perhaps a bit too liberal with public displays of affection, were consistent.

So between that and roughly a thousand other things, he’d taken early leave from his evening meal and snuck back into his rooms into something a little more… comfortable. With all the stress he’d endured of planning the Summit and all the stress he had yet to face in _hosting_ it, he needed a night to himself. Some semblance of freedom, wherein he could slough off his responsibilities for a few short, precious hours.

Another issue he had with the Palace, he remembered as he did this, was that none of the doors had locks on them, except the front gates and armoury. Not even the Fire Lord’s private rooms had locks—of course, no one would _dare_ enter without first knocking. In theory.

Zuko was thus very surprised (on principle) and not surprised at all (because it was her and that was how she did things) when the door to his rooms opened without warning, and Katara walked in, huffing.

“Hey, Zuko?” she said. “I’m sorry about earlier, that was really rude of me. One of the servants said you were in here, so I was thinking we could look over the co—” Katara stopped mid-sentence when she took in the scene before her and saw Zuko straddling the window frame, one foot out the window, a blue mask tied around his head. Seeing her, he froze, and beneath the mask he stared at her alarmedly.

Her expression quickly went from surprised to flat. “Really?” she asked. “_Again?_”

Zuko was suddenly glad for the mask; it hid his embarrassed blush. “What?” he asked, suddenly defensive, climbing back inside the window. Once he was sure his blush was gone, he removed the mask to speak better. “The pressures of the crown can be… pressuring…” he finished lamely, cringing. Then he stood up straighter and assumed a more commanding stance, as if daring her to challenge him. “This is how I vent my frustrations.”

“Well, it’s healthier than scorching everything in a twenty-foot radius,” she admitted. Her eyes went to his desk. “What about the colony reformations?” The proposal they’d agreed to go over tonight, the only reason she’d dragged herself out of her bedroom because at least in Zuko’s chambers she wouldn’t have to face Aang, or her father, or Sokka, or Toph.

He shook his head. “I thought you weren’t going to come, so… I thought I might as well make use of the free time.”

Part of her wanted to be flattered on the principle than he hadn’t wanted to go over the proposal without him, but another part of her dismissed this as ridiculous. He’d asked her because she was a neutral party, and talented with words—it made little sense for him to attempt such a delicate situation alone. Fondness didn’t have anything to do with it.

She looked back up at him, in his black silks and dao swords, blue mask dangling from one hand.

“You do this to… vent, do you?” she asked in a small voice. He nodded.

“We can look over the plans instead, if you want,” he offered, “That _was_ what we agreed."

“No,” she replied, sounding very firm. “No, we can do that tomorrow. You’re already dressed for this, anyway.” She tilted her chin up, proud. “And I’m coming with you,” she added determinedly. He stared.

“You are?”

She smirked. “What, you’re the only one who can vent your frustrations at responsibility by taking it out on lowlife passers-by?”

He wondered at what point he should consider talking about Aang—or _to_ Aang. But she’d asked him when they’d arrived to leave it alone, so leave it alone he would. For now, at least.

“Fair point.” He paused. “…are you going to dress as _her_ again?”

“Mm…” She considered this a moment. “No, I don’t think so,” she decided. “I stole her identity once before, but I didn’t know I was doing it. To do it again, _knowingly_… it’d be wrong. Plus, a little conspicuous—we’re miles from that fishing village.”

“True,” he agreed. “And besides—” A sly grin pulled the corners of his mouth up, and even though he wasn’t touching her, she suddenly felt hot, as if his flame-coloured eyes were warming her. “—Blue always _was_ your colour.”

He went to his wardrobe and pulled it open, revealing several variations of red silk robes and gold flame detailing, and rummage around at the bottom. He pulled out something wrapped in a musty old cloth, carefully unwrapped it, and handed to her a second blue mask.

It was similar to his own—perhaps slightly smaller—made of the same material and painted in the same colours, but the cheeks were less round, the fangs smaller, and it overall looked a great deal more feminine.

“Where… where did you get this?” she asked, wondering for a moment if he’d had it made.

“My mother,” he replied. “They came as a set of four, but I don’t know where she got them.” He looked up at her. “Try it on, see if it feels alright.”

She did. It was a little snug, and knocked against her jaw if she opened her mouth too wide, but she could see and breath comfortably. She smiled beneath its glossy blue face. “It feels good," she said.

“Have you got the silks from when we…” he paused, swallowed. “Tracked the Southern Raiders?” he finished delicately. Katara nodded, and a few minutes later was back in Zuko’s room, all in black with a waterskin at her hip. Zuko smiled at her, they put on their masks, and hopped out of the window, vanishing into the night.


	4. Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under the guise of the Blue Spirit, Zuko and Katara take to the streets of the Fire Nation, discovering that masks can offer them both what they crave, but cannot have. Meanwhile, Aang tries to make amends.

“Katara?” Aang knocked on the door of her bedroom. “Katara? Can I come in?” No answer. “Can we t—” he stopped himself. “I’m sorry about earlier, really. I want to hear what you have to say. I want to listen.”

Still no answer.

“Katara?” Aang pushed open the door and his face fell as he saw that the room was empty. She was gone.

* * *

The climate of the Fire Nation was much more agreeable at night—warm enough to permit light clothing, but not stifling. In fact, it was pleasantly cool whenever a breeze hit, and Katara found herself extending her arms to fully appreciate the gentle wind, as if she were a bird about to take flight. Possibilities surrounded her like raindrops in a storm; infinite and abundant. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this free. Even before, there’d been a war to fight, a set agenda on what they needed to do.

But now? She could do _anything_.

They ran along the rooftops, silent as shadows and just as fleeting, and he almost believed they _could_ fly for how they moved. They didn’t need to speak for how well they worked together—it seemed a year apart had done little to the synergy they had established at the end of the war. Fire and water, day and night, yin and yang—working in perfect unison. She went low where he went high, she went ahead where he hung back. Seamless, as if barely a day had passed.

And soon, they happened upon their first target. Zuko stopped, crouching in a shadow, and Katara landed behind him. He pointed to a man, seemingly going about normal, unproblematic business.

“He’s a thief,” he explained. “A doctor, overcharging his patients.” Katara’s temper flared. Little got her more furious than someone abusing power and the misfortune of others to line their pockets. A small growl rumbled in the back of her throat, and she didn’t notice Zuko turn to glance at her a moment. Not surprised, not pleased, not displeased. Simply… he noticed. He understood her rage; it was the same as his shame and disgust. What this man was doing was exactly the same thing the Fire Nation had done for one hundred years.

Well, just like then, he and Katara were going to do something about it. He’d spent days examining this man, to be _perfectly_ sure he wasn’t missing anything. There was no reason for him to charge as much as he did, no reason other than greed.

“You ready?” Zuko breathed, barely audible. Behind her mask, Katara’s expression was stony, and she nodded.

From the man’s perspective, they landed either side of him as though they’d leapt down from the heavens themselves. They landed silently, the black mesh behind the eyeholes of their masks making their gazes seem bottomless. The man started, cursing and raising his hands against them.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Katara saw that Zuko wasn’t making any advances, only watching behind the dead, stiff grin of his mask. She followed his lead, and watched the doctor shudder dispassionately. After several seconds, he looked up, and recognition glittered behind the fear in his orange eyes.

“Wait…” he muttered softly. “I…I _know_ you…”

Katara went stiff as the man gaped at Zuko. Had the Fire Lord’s pastimes become common knowledge? No, surely not—he would’ve told her if he thought anyone knew who he was.

“Please!” the man then cried. “Please, O Spirit, don’t hurt me! I have a wife! A child! A young boy! Don’t kill me!”

_Pathetic_, Katara thought disgustedly. She side-eyed Zuko from beneath her mask, and wondered why he wasn’t talking—then she remembered. Not much was known about the Blue Spirit, but from what Aang had told her, he didn’t speak very much—maybe at all.

“It’s your duty to help those who are ill,” she said to the doctor, disguising her voice by trying to imitate the rasping purr of the Fire Nation accent. “You take advantage of the unfortunate to line your own pockets. You have no honour.”

To someone who didn’t know him, Zuko didn’t react at all to her words. But Katara did, and she saw how his posture stiffened with something like amusement, or possibly embarrassment.

“Please!” cried the doctor again. “My wife! My boy! They need me!”

“So do your patients,” Katara told him, “They also need the gold you charge them. But there are other doctors.” As if on cue, Zuko drew his dao swords in a slow scrape of metal, holding them at his sides. He raised an arm to point one sword at the man who, terrified, leapt to his feet and made to bolt. He was fast, but Katara was faster, and she shot out a hand, a water-whip following her command, tangling around his ankles and freezing. He crashed to the ground with a groan, knocking his chin on the concrete, and with some effort rolled himself onto his back to face his assailants.

“I beg you!” he wailed. “I have—I have money? Please, don’t hurt me!”

Katara cocked her head to the side. “What would we want with money?” she asked, playing the ‘spirit’ angle of Zuko’s moniker _just_ enough to cast doubt on his—their—humanity. “Stop overcharging your patients. This will be your only warning.”

Zuko raised his dao sword again and stepped forwards. The doctor trembled, closing his eyes. He whimpered when he felt the cold tip of the sword press against his fleshy cheek. A small, horrified shriek escaped him when Zuko twisted the blade, producing a miniscule cut. By the time he’d opened his eyes, clapped a hand to his face to probe the damage—of which there was very little—the Blue Spirit and his companion were gone.

* * *

“Does that happen often?” Katara asked as they slid throughout the shadows like wraiths. Zuko shrugged, sheathing his swords, but from the set of his shoulders she could tell he was angry.

“Often enough,” he replied. “Most of the nobility has done something of the sort. Corruption is rife, especially in the capital. That’s one of the reforms I’m proposing—doctors will be paid by the state, and medicine will be subsidised.”

“Taxes,” Katara clarified, and he nodded. The Southern Water Tribe tended to use a barter system by comparison, but then all the sub-tribes were so small that everyone knew everyone—it was closer to helping a person out than a real _job_. She smiled at him, even though he couldn’t see it under the mask. “You’re quite good at this politics thing.”

He snorted. “Can anyone be _good?_” he asked. “It’s impossible to make everyone happy, I’m just trying to keep the Fire Nation out of another war—and in one piece.”

She made a noise of sympathy; it escaped her before she could think to suppress it—Zuko didn’t want her pity. She grimaced, then, “You seem to be doing a pretty good job so far, though. Anyone can see your dedicated to restoring the Fire Nation’s reputation—and it’s industry.”

“You’d think that,” he muttered, but from his tone and the way his head was turning, he seemed preoccupied. “Half the nobility thinks I’m trying to destroy the Fire Nation’s traditions.”

“War and genocide aren’t traditions worth preserving,” she told him with a frown. Zuko nodded again, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he stopped short, slamming his back against an alleyway wall and dragging Katara back, too, pressing her flat against the wall beside him.

She was about to snap at him—ask _what the hell?_—but then she heard footsteps, _lots_ of footsteps, and from the mouth of the alley they were hiding in, she saw a troupe of Fire Nation soldiers march past.

Zuko cursed under his breath. Beneath her mask, Katara raised an eyebrow. It was unusual to hear him swear; for all his bluster and irritability, Zuko rarely resorted to profanity. “They can’t find me,” he said in a whisper. “The Blue Spirit is considered an enemy of the Fire Nation.”

“Even now?” Katara asked, equally hushed. “You freed the Avatar—if not for you, he wouldn’t have ended the war.”

“True,” he admitted, looking from one end of the alley to the other. The footsteps were fading. “But he still humiliated Zhao—made a fool of the Fire Nation’s military.” His arm, that which he’d pressed across her collar, lowered to take her hand and pull her along. Even through their gloves, she could feel how much warmer he was than her.

“You all think I’m funny for how I treat honour—” An unwitting smile tugged at her lips. “—but it’s a cultural doctrine, here. Almost everyone is happy for the peace, but there’s no doubt that the Fire Nation’s honour has been marred. The Avatar, and the Blue Spirit, are at least a part of that. The people’s collective ego has been… bruised. It’s a matter of national pride.”

Katara didn’t quite agree with that; the Blue Spirit and the Avatar had _pointed out_ the faults of the Fire Nation, not caused them. But where in some ways she could criticise the Fire Nation, she felt she couldn’t in others—just as Zuko couldn’t criticise the Southern Water Tribe.

“For that,” he went on. “The Blue Spirit is an enemy. Those who don’t think he’s human, fear him, and those who _do_, they condemn him.”

“That’s… quite a legacy…” Katara murmured, watching his form silhouetted in the dim light as he led her down the alleyway. There was a string of red lanterns in the street at the end of the alley that made their blue masks look very dark purple, and his hair—black and shiny as a ravencrow’s feathers—was highlighted in crimson.

“Better than my father’s,” he remarked. “Not as good as my uncle’s.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Katara frowned. “You helped Aang stop the war, you defeated your father—”

“Only after helping him,” Zuko corrected. “After almost—” His voice hitched, uncomfortable. “—getting Aang killed.”

“You’re eighteen, Zuko. You’ve only been on the throne for a year. Your uncle and father have had a lot more time to establish their legacies—didn’t Iroh besiege Ba Sing Se?” This seemed to bring him a bit of comfort; his expression softening, the hard, tense lines of his shoulders relaxing slightly.

They turned onto the street with the red lanterns and headed in the opposite direction to the soldiers, periodically glancing over their shoulders to ensure no one had seen them. Katara opened her mouth to ask where they were headed, but was cut off before she could begin by a scream.

The pair of them stopped short and, without need of confirmation from one another, turned a sharp corner in the direction of the scream. When it came to battles, whether enemies or allies they worked in tandem, and they arrived in a small clearing between four buildings with several alleys converging into it—a crossroads, almost.

In the centre, two young men and a slightly younger woman. One of the men had an arm around her shoulders, hugging her against him, other hand gripping her wrist and holding it down by her side. She was struggling and crying, a red shawl that was surely meant to be worn over her shoulders wrapped around her neck and mouth to muffle her cries. The other had a coin purse in his hand, and had raised a finger to trace delicate patterns across her face.

Katara felt her blood boil. And for the first time since mistaking that man for Yon Rha, she felt the urge to bend it, too. She stepped into the clearing, the light shining on her mask, casting dramatic shadows across the thick enamel ridges and an eerie grin with fathomless eyes.

It took a moment for them to spot her; the second young man was facing away from her, but the first noticed her, and so did the struggling girl. When she stilled, eyes going wide, the second man turned, and they all stared at her.

The second one was the first to speak. “What are you supposed to be?” he asked. Katara pondered this for a moment. Answer, and she’d probably confirm their suspicions that she was simply a human impersonating what they believed to be a real spirit. Remain silent, however, and she would retain the mysterious power the Blue Spirit mask gave her. Fear spoke louder than words.

She raised her hands, and water pooled out of her skin, lashing out and striking the first boy’s hands where they gripped the girl. Reflexively, he let go of her, leapt away, and the girl ran forwards. The second boy lurched to grab her again, but now Zuko stepped into the light, swords drawn. He pointed one at the second boy, and Katara squared off against the first. In a flash of polished metal and clear water, they made quick work of their thoroughly unworthy assailants. Tails between their legs, they bolted down one of the alleys, ungainly in their terror. Really, they hadn’t stood a chance against a master waterbender and a master swordsman.

When they turned away, they saw the young girl, staring at them with wide brown eyes. She looked a little like Ty Lee, Katara thought. As they faced her, she fell to her knees and bowed before them.

“Spirits!” she exclaimed in a stunned whisper. “Th—thank you, _thank_ you, I—” She stopped when Katara crouched down and silently offered a hand. The girl took it—she was shaking like a leaf—and got to her feet. Zuko stepped forwards, then immediately backwards when the girl flinched, but outstretched a hand: her coin purse. The girl, looking somewhat awestruck, took the purse. Then she bowed to them—her hands in that strange little flame formation—before turning heel and running in the opposite direction to the two men.

“You said I was good at politics,” Zuko murmured from beneath his mask. “If that was true, those boys wouldn’t have looked at you like they were doing nothing wrong.”

Some dark part of her—the same part that had felt the urge to twist those boy’s bodies and punish them—wanted to agree. To blame him and be disgusted by the world and renounce it for how such awful crimes could go so unpunished.

But then she would be no better than Hama, who had allowed herself to be consumed by rage and revenge. To turn her back on the world would be to condemn it and that was not in her nature. She wanted to save it—save _it_ and every person she could.

“We stopped them,” she muttered, “That’s what counts.” She turned to look at the Blue Spirit standing beside her. Again, she opened her mouth to say something, but then the familiar clanking footsteps filled her ears, and then they were running down an alley—a different one to both the boys and the girl—and working to evade the patrolling soldiers. Zuko paused behind a building and gave her a leg up, and they scaled a small wall to end up on what was effectively another layer of the town—it was so rocky and uneven that the terrain differed by several feet in places, with sharp inclines everywhere. It was no place for the faint-footed. Still, the footsteps, accented by metallic clanking of armour, warned them a dozen of men marching in near-perfect time.

They turned a corner, and Katara saw a flash of red-and-black armour approaching before she felt Zuko’s taking her hand again, and she was yanked sideways.

“In here,” he muttered, pulling her into a gap between two buildings. It wasn’t long enough to be an alleyway, and was only barely wide enough for two people—if they walked shoulder-to-shoulder. Zuko pushed her to the back of the small space and stood in front of her, facing her, boxing her in with his arms. They both held their breaths, so close that Katara could see that neither of their chests were moving. Her heart was thudding in her ears—surely they could hear it. She could practically hear Zuko’s, too—the solid, rapid pulsing of his blood, she could see a tiny rhythmic twitch under his jawline.

Footsteps thudded closer and Katara saw under Zuko’s arm pairs of boots matching past the opening, apparently not seeing it—or the people inside.

It seemed an age before the night was silent again, and they both let out relieved, shaking breaths.

“That was close,” Katara muttered, pushing up her mask to feel cool air on her face. Luckily, the darkness and the black silks had hidden them.

“Too close,” Zuko corrected, following suit. His cheeks were flushed red, and Katara supposed hers were, too. They looked at each other at the same time, made a moment of eye contact, then looked away again. Katara laughed, giddy with adrenaline and, now that the immediate danger was past, acutely aware of how close they stood. Zuko’s expression was impassive, giving nothing away. He’d never been all that good at hiding his irritation back when they’d been on the run—perhaps he’d been practicing this past year. The Fire Lord had a reputation to uphold, and he’d have to go along with things he didn’t necessarily like. She’d never practiced such things, always far too obvious in her thoughts and wearing her heart on her sleeve. In some ways, that was a virtue; she was counted on for her honesty and integrity. In the world of politics, it was probably a detriment.

“I guess we’re both a little rusty,” she said, and looked up, seeing the moon shining down at her. She removed her mask fully and huffed a breath. “This thing gets a little stuffy after a while—how do you wear it?”

He shrugged. “You get used to it,” he said. Though his breathing had slowed down, he was a little flushed, and there was a glimmer of exhilaration in his eyes. The amber colour made them look as though a real fire burned within. “And I guess warmth doesn’t bother me as much.”

Katara looked up, appraising him. He looked healthier than the previous night; in the darkness the shadows under his eyes seemed less pronounced, the lines of his cheekbones less harsh. He looked young and fierce—she suspected they both did: drunk on the vivacity of youth, convinced they were invincible, that they could take on the world.

Zuko voiced her thoughts before she could. “It’s nice. To be fighting. Down on the ground, not ordering from on high.”

She nodded. “I’ve spent the last year being a teacher or a mother,” she said. “I love teaching, I get to… to be _me_. They’re not there for Avatar Aang, they’re there for Master Katara. But even then… It’s not the same.” How did she voice it? She adored teaching the young waterbenders, but it didn’t quell her desire to be out _there_, doing things a Blue Spirit could do.

“The Blue Spirit is freedom, for me,” Zuko said to her. “But for you, like when you were the Painted Lady… it’s responsibility. Isn’t it? Or power?”

She thought his words over for a few moments, and decided he was right. In the most succinct way, that was how this worked. As the Blue Spirit, he didn’t have to be the Fire Lord, he didn’t have to be the host of a Summit, the leader of a country, a boy making amends for the sins of his father and grandfather and great-grandfather and so on. He was a faceless wraith, feared not for his status but his swords—he didn’t even have the pressures of being a firebender when he wore that mask. As a child, he’d struggled with the element; struggled to produce it, struggled to control it. He had been taught rage was the way, but he had been kind-hearted, and so empty of rage. After being exiled, he’d improved, but like every firebender would eventually under this single-faceted teaching, he’d stagnated. Only when he’d found the true masters—the dragons—had he gained any particular skill with firebending, had he gained the skill to stand a chance at defeating his sister.

All of these pressures, responsibilities, painful memories… burned away with the placing of a mask.

By contrast, she thought, the Painted Lady—and now the Blue Spirit’s female companion—was powerful. She had the authority that Katara, viewed by much of the world as simply a peasant from the Water Tribe or the Avatar’s girlfriend, didn’t. She got to be the Painted Lady, or the Blue Spirit, or whoever she wanted, but in doing so she had power. To change things, to make a real difference, and no one could shout her down or guilt her—even unknowingly—into cowing and changing her mind.

All of this judgement, doubt, compromise… freezing and shattering with a smear of paint.

She glanced at him. “Maybe it’s what we do in masks that shows who we really are,” she said, “What we really want.”

He didn’t look at her, and he didn’t smile, but his eyes were gentle. “Maybe,” he agreed.

Zuko rarely smiled, she thought. True smiles; the big grins that you couldn’t hold back, that made your cheeks hurt. Even now, when the war was ended and the world was at peace, he didn’t smile much, rather he just looked less sad and angry all the time. His resting expression was very austere, just tipping on the edge of a disapproving frown, and when he concentrated he had a look of stern determination; mouth set in a grim, focused line. He rarely smiled, but when he was happy, he softened. Something in his eyes turned warm and inviting, and his voice—commanding, fierce and, in anger, harsh—turned rasping with softness and gentleness. He was always honest, even when he didn’t want to be—he was a poor liar, but perhaps that was for the best. Even his emotions, he wore on his sleeve. Even when he tried not to.

They were still standing very close. Closer than even in Ba Sing Se. His skin was completely flawless, she saw. Not a single freckle on him. There was also the tiniest, faintest scar—so pale that it was almost invisible against his skin—on his undamaged cheekbone. She wondered what had caused it.

He had nice cheekbones, she thought. Somehow delicate and regal without being feminine. Even with his longish hair, nothing about him was feminine. When he licked his lips, she found her gaze darting to them. A beat, and he opened his mouth, then—

“We should be getting back.”

She barely whispered the words, but for how suddenly she spoke them, she might as well have screamed. Zuko didn’t seem actually startled by her words, but he took a step back, bobbed his head in a nod, and slipped the mask back over his face.

“This way,” he muttered.

As she followed suit and replaced her own mask, Katara reflected that it was the first time where she’d not been able to guess Zuko’s expression beneath the mask. She thought little of it—or tried to, at least. He was a busy young man with a lot on his mind, not least of which the political unrest of his country. And he’d always been less than inclined to share his feelings, only really letting out when he was frustrated or deeply upset.

All the same… he’d always been honest with her. With his feelings, at least. She’d never had to _guess_ what he was thinking or feeling before. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

They arrived back at the Palace, evading the guards as only someone with an intimate knowledge of the guards’ patrol rounds and the building’s many secret passageways could do. Climbing in through Zuko’s window, Katara removed her mask, and watched as Zuko removed his own mask, then pulled closed his window and a few diaphanous layers of red curtain. In the low candlelight, paperwork winked up at them, blindingly white against all the red and black and blue in the room.

“We’ll look over those tomorrow,” Zuko said,

“The rest of the delegates are arriving tomorrow,” she said. “Are you sure you won’t be too tired?” There was even a big fancy opening dinner than would keep everyone up until late.

Zuko didn’t look at her. “I’ll sleep when the Summit’s over,” he said in a measured tone. Katara, suddenly feeling like she was very much not wanted in the room—though she knew he would never admit it to her face—stepped forwards and held out her mask.

Now Zuko looked at her—between her and the mask she offered. He blinked slowly. She blinked back. “Do you… not want it?” she asked him.

“Don’t you?” he asked. She stared. “Oh. I thought… Well, if you don’t want to come out again—” He reached for the mask, but she pulled it away slightly.

“I do,” she corrected him. “Want to come out again. I like being a Blue Spirit. I think.”

“Oh.” Zuko blinked at her again. “Okay, then.” When she offered him the mask again—this time with the clear point that she would be borrowing it again—he shook his head. “Keep it. A gift. At least until the Summit’s over.” He gave a small smile. It was a strange, awkward thing, as many of Zuko’s smiles were, but it was genuine, and she smiled back, and didn’t feel quite so out of place anymore.

She went into the Fire Lady’s quarters, where she’d stowed her normal clothes—obviously, she couldn’t walk about the Palace in black silks—redressed, then stepped back out into the Fire Lord’s room.

“Goodnight, Zuko,” she smiled. On a spur-of-the-moment decision, she stepped forwards and gave him a hug. She was so quick he didn’t even have time to react—to reciprocate.

“Sleep well, Katara,” he replied, then she showed herself out, already overheating from the excessive clothing. After running around in a cool night, suddenly being inside, clothed and still was oppressively warm.

“Did it go well?” asked one of the guards posted at Zuko’s door. For whatever reason, they’d let her in earlier without protest—maybe they’d known they couldn’t stop her if they’d wanted to, or maybe they were old-fashioned enough in their opinions about women or the Water Tribe to not think of her as a threat. Katara, somewhat surprised to be spoken to, turned to him.

“More time is needed,” she replied enigmatically. “Delicate matters require delicate handling.”

And she quick-marched back to her room before they could ask her anything else.


	5. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Summit begins, and Katara questions Zuko about Mai's conspicuous absence. Later, Aang apologises to Katara.

Katara found that she wasn’t able to get that much sleep, because the next morning was a swarm of delegates arriving, one after the other, and she had to be up early to greet them all.

Technically, she supposed _she_ didn’t _have_ to be there, as her father was the Southern Chief, not her, but she still felt it was her duty, and she’d be damned if she didn’t get as involved in these politics as she could whilst she had the chance.

She barely had time to get dressed in a marginally-more-formal-than-usual outfit, bedecked with Water Tribe blue and the Southern Tribe waves, before a servant was knocking on her door and politely (though not without a slight aura of disapproval) informing her that “The Fire Lord would like your presence in the royal assembly courtyard, Master Katara.”

Once there, she saw crowds of Fire Nation citizens lined up expectantly, and her friends clustered around Zuko in what she could only describe as a formation. On Zuko’s immediate left was Aang, looking even more Avatar-y than normal. On _his_ left was Toph. Sokka was on Zuko’s right, and he was the one to wave her over.

“Where’s Suki?” Katara asked her brother as she came over with them. Sokka took her by the shoulders and moved her so she was standing between him and Zuko.

“Kyoshi’s independent, like Omashu, so she’s coming in with the other Earth Kingdom representatives.”

“Ah,” she nodded, and glanced around—that would explain why their father wasn’t here, either, or Bumi. On her immediate left and slightly in front, like the tip of an arrow, was Zuko. He looked—surprisingly—quite well-rested, the shadows under his eyes slightly less severe. She wondered idly if one of the servants had put make-up on him, or if their night-time excursion had been as therapeutic as it had for her.

Should she say good morning? Probably not. He’d no doubt seen her arrive, he was probably focusing on all the things he had to say and do. Instead, she turned to flash a warm smile at Iroh, who had just appeared, rushing to his place with the grace of a much younger and slenderer man.

“My apologies, everyone,” he said. “I overslept.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle,” Zuko said, not turning to face him. “No one’s arrived just—” He was cut off by fanfare, and immediately clapped his mouth shut, pursing his lips. The doors swung open, and in walked the delegates.

Up the narrow strip between the crowds, a proud line of fierce men and women, the brightest minds and strongest warriors each nation had to offer. At the head of the procession was the Northern Watern Tribe; Chief Arnook and a small group of warriors and advisors. A few paces in front of Arnook was a small, slight waterbender who conjured pretty shapes and elaborate patterns in water. The Fire Nation crowds murmured in awe, and Katara realised that this was probably the first time many of them had ever seen a waterbender.

Arnook greeted Zuko with the expected pleasantry, but it was no surprise that things would be a little cold. Katara bit the inside of her cheek as she mused over how Yue really wasn’t Zuko’s fault, but Zhao’s. Now was hardly the time to mention it, though, so she merely smiled and curtsied when Arnook had finished greeting Zuko and Aang and flashed her a respectful nod as he walked past. She thought she caught a twinkle in his eye; perhaps he was remembering when she challenged Pakku—who wasn’t in the Northern delegation—to a duel.

On Arnook’s heels was the Southern Tribe, headed by Hakoda, along with a few others—namely Bato and the Chiefs of the smaller sub-tribes. The Southern Tribe more resembled a miniature Council, with Hakoda being their elected leader-of-leaders. Pakku wasn’t in this delegation, either; instead enjoying wedded bliss with Gran-Gran and keeping the Southern Tribe running in the Chief’s absence.

Hakoda greeted Zuko and Aang formally but warmly, doing his best not to act as if he was greeting someone junior to him, even though his fatherly impulses were strong. He threw a wink to his children before moving to stand at his allotted place beneath a large Southern Tribe banner, the fresh embroidery vibrant and gleaming with intricate silver stitching.

Next came Omashu, and Bumi performed an earthbending spectacle for the crowds all by himself as he made his way up the steps. He greeted Zuko and Aang more formally than usual, but still pretty casually—shaking Zuko’s hand rather than bowing, and loudly sharing a joke with Aang before clapping him on the back. He moved with such speed, rushing to stand under the Omashu banner, that his attendants had to rush to catch up with him.

Kyoshi Island was next, obviously led by Suki, who, along with Ty Lee and a few of her most skilled warriors, gave an exquisite performance with their fans before approaching the steps in a perfectly uniform formation, bowing in eerie unison, and heading to stand beneath the Kyoshi banner. The one crack in the strict formality was the suggestive smile Suki flashed at Sokka.

It was no surprise when Kuei entered that Bosco was behind him, along with a small group of exasperated and somewhat frazzled looking advisors. His greeting to Zuko was by far the coolest, to the surprise of exactly no one—Zuko had had a direct hand in the fall of Ba Sing Se. But, he seemed to chipper up when he greeted Aang, and shook hands with Iroh just like all the others. Tea, the old man often postulated, was the solution to almost all of life’s problems. And the ones where it _wasn’t_, well, it usually helped one spring forth.

Lastly, the Air Acolytes from the Southern Temple, their leader of which bowed deeply to Aang, then slightly-less-deeply to Zuko, before—with Aang now leading them—walking over to the Air Nation banner in the centre of the semi-circle behind the Fire Lord. At the same time. Katara and Sokka went to stand with their father, Toph went to stand with Bumi, and Zuko addressed them all.

“It is my honour to welcome you all here, on this historic occasion,” he told them, voice projecting nicely—clearly Iroh had been coaching him on speech-giving. “And it is with your blessings that I announce the first annual Peace Summit of the Four Nations is officially begun!” He raised his arms, conjuring a burst of fire, and the crowd erupted into cheers.

Amid the roars, Sokka slung an arm around Katara’s shoulders, grinning broadly, and muttered in her ear, “Can you believe it?” Honestly, a part of her couldn’t. She’d known war for so long, it was still a bit of a shock to have peace.

But it was such a wonderful shock, so she cheered with the others.

* * *

There were no talks on the first day, just the opening ceremony and the opening dinner that evening—the latter being a more private, formal, but also social affair. Fancy clothes and fancier manners were, much to Toph’s disgust, a _must_.

“It’s gonna take me _hours_ to get into this thing!” she wailed. “It’s just not practical! I want to _do_ stuff during my day, not put everything on just to take it all off so I can go to sleep!”

“Well, the good news is you have hours to get ready!” Sokka said brightly, yelping when Toph threw a pebble from one of the decorative tree arrangements at his head.

“I should start getting ready, too,” Katara mused, once she and Suki stopped giggling at Toph and Sokka’s antics. “Unlike some of us, I’m not already wearing a full face of make-up.”

“Oh, you look lovely without it,” Suki said breezily, grinning at her. Katara smiled and gave a shrug.

“I guess, but this is a special occasion,” she replied. “I’ll see you guys later.” And with that, she headed off to her room, however she was intercepted by one Fire Lord.

“Katara!” he called, “Good, I was looking for you.”

“You were?” she asked, wondering if he had to tell her something about last night, about the Blue Spirits. For a moment, she worried if someone had identified them, and cold fear roiled in her belly.

“The colony reformations,” Zuko then said, and her fears vanished, leaving an echo of terror in the pit of her stomach. “We have a few hours before the opening dinner starts, I was hoping we could use that time to go over the plans… since we didn’t finish them last night.”

His wording was careful in a place where it was likely—nigh guaranteed—someone was listening. Even when surrounded by only his own staff, he was cautious, but, she rationalised, considering the various attempts that had been made on his life, that was fair.

She nodded. “Sounds good.” At that, Zuko visibly relaxed, some of the tension eking out of his form.

“Kuei has the most reason to hate me.” He said this so frankly that Katara felt a twist of unease in her gut, but he continued before she could comment. “I meant what I said last night—to your father,” he added quickly. “I really want this to go well, to go _smoothly_.”

She smiled at him, “It will, Zuko,” she assured him, “No one wants more war.”

“No one _ever_ wants war,” he said. Then he frowned, “Well, no one decent. But it’s decent people here. People go to war because they think it’s worth fighting for something. I don’t want anyone in the Four Nations to think they have to fight to get what they need.”

Her smile broadened, “Well,” she said, “I think that’s an excellent place to start.”

The Fire Lord offered the Water Tribe Princess and Master Waterbender his arm, and with an amused laugh, she took it, and allowed him to lead her to his chambers.

Unbeknownst to them both, someone was watching.

* * *

“Alright…” Katara said slowly, frowning down at the papers strewn across the desk, the low tea table, and most of the floor. “…the Fire Nation colonies have been there so long, this isn’t going to be a quick extraction—it should be gradual. Start with the government officials being replaced with Earth Kingdom natives, then you can start making arrangements for the expats to return home.”

“But where will they _live?_” he insisted.

“Build them new houses,” she said simply, “The Fire Nation is much more advanced in machinery and industry—and with the end of the war meaning no more weapons production, I think the citizens will be glad for some work going around.” She paused. “Whilst you’re at it, you should refurbish some of the poorer parts of the cities. One hundred years of war makes for a bit of a slum problem.”

Zuko nodded, noting this down on the long scroll he was going to be using as a prompt-card for the following days’ talks. “What do you think a good time-frame would be? Six months?”

She shook her head. “At least a year,” she said, “Give that figure to Kuei, but make sure he knows it’s a best-case scenario.”

More nodding, more scribbling. This went on for several hours, until Katara looked down at the papers again, picking up another one and blinking several times when the characters seemed to swim before her eyes.

“_Spirits_, this is melting my brain,” she exclaimed, tossing the papers down and watching them flutter to the desk. “I love helping people, and politics is interesting, but to a _point_, La!” She groaned, then laughed at her own exasperation. “Can we order some tea?” she asked, “Take a small break? I think my head is going to explode.”

With a relieved noise, Zuko also placed down his paper and pen. “I was just about to suggest the same.”

“How do you _do_ this?” she asked him. “Day in, day out. It’s _exhausting_.”

“I honestly don’t know,” he admitted, a frown pulling at the corner of his mouth. “But it’s not normally this… intense. And I usually have the Council helping me.”

“Why didn’t you enlist them here, then?” She raised a curious eyebrow.

“They’re not exactly… impartial,” he said carefully. “And I don’t want to give Kuei any reason to think I’m trying to cheat him.”

“Well, I think this is a good place to stop—or, start. Don’t you?” she asked, looking down at their plans. “It’s vague enough so you can finalise things with Kuei’s approval, but specific enough that he’ll know what you intend to do.”

Zuko nodded. “Thank you for helping me with this, Katara.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “I like to help.”

“No, really,” he insisted. “Especially since you’ve been a bit upset these past few days… I appreciate you still took the time to help me.”

“Of course I did,” she replied, slightly perplexed. “I promised I would. And you’re my friend.”

At this second brush-off, Zuko caught her hand. “I mean it,” he said earnestly. “Thank you.”

Katara went slightly pink. Zuko wasn’t particularly fond of physical contact—but considering he’d grown up with his father and Azula, it made sense. The fact he was initiating contact spoke volumes about how much he valued her help.

She turned her hand over so she was squeezing his fingers lightly. “You’re welcome, Zuko,” she replied, equally earnestly. “I like this. I like helping people, coming to peaceful solutions. I’m just glad my advice is helpful—that my opinion is actually worth something to you.”

“Your opinion’s always been worth something to me,” he said quietly.

Katara was suddenly aware of the contact of their fingers, and it seemed Zuko was as well, because they pulled away at exactly the same moment. A memory echoed in his mind as he watched Katara gather up the papers, and as he looked at her he saw her lit by green rather than red, and he remembered the first time he’d really cared about what she thought of him. The first time it had hurt him to see the anger and disgust on her face when she looked at him.

She’d said something. She was looking at him expectantly, like she was waiting for an answer.

“What?”

A slight flush of embarrassment coloured her cheeks. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I thought—well, I…”

“No, I… I just didn’t hear you,” he said slowly, the fuzz of his mind not clearing all at once. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. “What did you say?”

She wouldn’t look at him now. “I asked what happened between you and Mai,” she said softly. “She isn’t here. Or at least, I haven’t seen her.”

Zuko’s jaw set in a way that she knew meant the subject was difficult, and was surprised when he offered up an answer.

“We just… we didn’t work out.”

Katara raised her eyebrows. “Oh? But… you braved a war together.”

“Technically, we didn’t,” he said. “I broke up with her—twice. And even if we _had_ braved the war… it wouldn’t have changed that we just… weren’t right for each other.” He thought for a moment. “It’s different, being with someone in war versus peacetime. That difference might be enough to break some people up.”

She watched him, eyes wide and mouth dry, his words weighing heavily in her mind. She didn’t like it, but she doubted Zuko did either—this was a very personal conversation for someone who didn’t particularly like talking about his feelings.

“What—?” she began to ask, then cut herself off. She shook her head. Curious, Zuko prompted her.

“You can ask me anything, Katara,” he told her. She peered at him, possibly confused by his statement, but nonetheless was emboldened to go on.

“What happened?” she asked. “What… did it?”

He gave a rueful smile. “My temper,” he replied. Katara’s eyes went wide, and he saw her stiffen, so he was quick to say, “Not in the way you think—not—not like that. Just… She always hated how I am when I’m angry. I vent, I bend, I snap at people.” Katara had relaxed again. “She knew I never meant anything by it—she knew I would never hurt anyone, least of all her, but…” He sighed. “She still didn’t like it. Her house was so quiet growing up… she likes quiet.” He paused. “And I hated how she wouldn’t tell me how she was feeling. You know how she is. Quiet is fine, but… she bottles everything up, never really lets anyone in… If something bothers her, she just lets it fester under the surface.” He shook his head. “I know opposites are supposed to attract, but… not those opposites.”

The sun had set during their hours at work, and sat before her he was outlined in silver, eyes closed and expression calm. Dark hair fell loosely over his face, framing a strong jawline and a proud nose, angular eyes and a scar rendered almost non-existent by the palette of the light. So at peace, so tranquil, he looked almost like a normal teenaged boy.

Almost.

Another question burned at her lips. “Do… do you regret it?” she asked. “Leaving her?”

His eyes opened slowly, glowing embers, molten gold. Something in them glittered; the fire inside of him, his ferocity that came out as bluster and anger but also strength and courage. She found herself transfixed by his faze, as she often was. At first, so long ago it seemed a lifetime away, when they stood in a tiny hamlet on the end of the world and he demanded to know where the Avatar was, she’d thought it was fear. Maybe it had been, then—in part. As for now, it definitely wasn’t, but she still didn’t quite have a name for it.

“Well, technically, she left _me_.” He cocked a wry smile, one she’d grown used to seeing. It suited him; the dry, sharp wit to contrast her own brother’s puns and sarcasm. “But it was mutual. I don’t… I don’t _regret_ it, exactly… It was the right choice to make, for both of us. But I don’t _like_ it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Being without her?”

He shrugged. “Being alone, I suppose,” he replied. “As the Fire Lord… I don’t really have anyone who I just be _me_ around, really—well, except for Uncle, of course, but he lives in Ba Sing Se. I couldn’t bear to pull him away from his Jasmine Dragon just because I feel a little lonely.”

She offered a sympathetic smile, and took his arm lightly. “You know he wouldn’t mind,” she said. “You’re his son.”

“I know he wouldn’t, but it would be selfish,” he insisted. “He deserves some peace, for once.”

“And you deserve to be surrounded with friends,” she pointed out. “Sokka says he hasn’t seen you since the celebrations for the end of the war last year. Toph tells me the same, and I _know_ Aang hasn’t. Have you seen _anyone_ since then?”

He flushed a little. “Uh… Ty Lee is here a lot,” he said. “She’s in charge of my safety, though, so she’s always at work around me. …I think Mai might’ve asked her to keep an eye on me.” His spoke with a slight frown—not displeased but thoughtful. Katara smiled.

“She cares about you,” she said. “That’s sweet. But not what I meant. Do you have anyone here you can really _talk_ to? If Ty Lee’s your security, it’s not… it’s not the same.”

He blinked at her. Suddenly his gaze didn’t seem quite so enthralling; more neutral, in a sense. Maybe it was the slight confusion that dulled the jumping flames. “I have you, don’t I?”

For a reason she didn’t quite know, that made her blush.

“Well, _yes_,” she answered. “Yes, of _course_ you do, Zuko. You’re my friend. But… I’m only here for the Summit, too. Do you have anyone here who’s… who’s _here?_”

His brows furrowed as he frowned. “I suppose I don’t.”

Katara worried her bottom lip. Not for the first time, it struck her how _lonely_ Zuko must have been for so much of his life. It was painfully obvious that Sokka had been his first friend, a boy the same age as him. Mai and Ty Lee, though his friends and utterly loyal to him, had been Azula’s companions in childhood, and he’d never spoken of any other people besides his cousin, Lu Ten.

“She would’ve done it, you know,” Zuko then said quietly. Katara looked at him, confused until he elaborated. “Mai would’ve done it. All of it. The crown, children. But she didn’t want it—at least not with _me_. And I didn’t want to force her into it because it would make me look bad if she didn’t.”

Katara frowned. “Why would it make you look bad?”

He glanced at her. “I’m the Fire Lord,” he said plainly. “I can’t just date and break up with people whenever I like. Any woman I’m seen with will be regarded as a potential Fire Lady. Mai would’ve stayed with me to keep my reputation, but I told her not to. My reputation can take a hit if it means we’ll both be happier.”

“Free,” she murmured. He looked at her again.

“What?”

“Free,” Katara repeated. “Like the mask. You wanted freedom. The freedom to marry someone you love, even if that’s the only freedom you have these days.” She went a little pink. “I never realised Mai was so loyal. I knew she was determined, committed. But… this is a different kind of commitment.”

Zuko nodded. “Someone will make her very happy one day,” he agreed. “But that someone won’t be me.”

“Do you wish it was?”

Another shrug. “Maybe sometimes,” he admitted.

Katara was practically staring at him now, entranced by this quiet, thoughtful version of Zuko. She’d caught glimpses of him before; when he’d spoken of his sister, or his words to her when they’d been riding for the Southern Raiders. Her blue eyes were wide and intrigued. This lonely young man whom she called her dear friend, but sometimes it felt as if they were strangers. “And other times?”

Zuko’s gaze snapped up to hers, fire meeting ice. At once, the illusion was shattered, and this moment of… whatever it was, was over. Katara sat back, broke the gaze to look down at their papers.

“This is a good place to leave it,” Zuko said, and she wondered if he meant the plans.

“Yes, it… it probably is,” she agreed. “I guess I’ll see you at the dinner, then.” She stood up, avoiding his gaze as she made for the door.

“Katara?” Zuko’s saying her name made her turn.

“Yes?”

“I meant what I said.”

She blinked, then frowned, slightly confused. “What part?”

His gaze was steady. “All of it.”

* * *

She thought it strange, she reflected, as she got ready for the opening dinner, that Zuko had been particularly grateful for her aid because she’d been upset. As if he’d expected her not to help him because she was in a bad mood.

It wasn’t like she’d been ill, or genuinely distressed, simply in a bad mood—and frankly, _wanting_ a distraction like political policy. Did he really think she would refuse to help him with something so huge just because she was in a huff? She wasn’t sure if she should be offended, quite frankly.

Something niggled at the back of her mind. Unbidden, a memory of Aang, frustrated and angry, surfaced. How she’d quickly mollified his irritation for the sake of him being able to focus on the Summit. Irritation of her own, flared, but she pushed it aside. Aang was allowed to be annoyed with her, if that was how he felt, and he needed to focus on the Summit—he was the _Avatar_. And he was only fourteen.

Once again, the prospect of six months at the Southern Air Temple loomed. Even though she hadn’t even seen the feast for the opening dinner tonight, she felt a little ill. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath, and calmed herself. _I am the tide on the beach_, she thought, _waves lapping at the shore. Ebb and flow. Push and pull. Tui and La._

Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, she headed for the dining hall, and the opening dinner.

* * *

The dining hall was a burst of colourful clothing and Nation Sigils, the air fragrant with the smell of innumerable dishes and abuzz with loud, lively conversation. Fire Nation red and gold was the most common colour, of course, but there was a fair amount of Earth Kingdom green and bronze, and Katara had to struggle to find the Water Tribe blue and silver in the masses. She eventually located her father and brother, who were speaking casually with one of the Earth Kingdom representative about a trade route from the South Pole to the Earth Kingdom.

“We get a lot of fish at the Pole that you don’t find in warmer waters,” Hakoda was saying, as the Earth Kingdom man nodded, looking intrigued.

“I will speak with King Bumi—have this added to the list of things to discuss. …Master Katara!” he exclaimed, and bowed to her deeply. Katara smiled, a little nervously.

“That’s not necessary,” she assured him, “With respect to what my father was saying, you should try the seaprunes.”

The Earth Kingdom official raised his eyebrows. “Are they being served?”

“They better be,” Sokka muttered, vaguely threatening. “I made Dad bring four barrels of them.”

The Earth Kingdom man bowed again. “I will heed your advice, Master Katara. If you would be so kind to excuse me, Chief Hakoda, Prince Sokka.”

“Lord Xiao-Li,” they both chorused, bowing in kind. As the man left, Sokka asked, “What were you and Zuko working on?”

“Plans for the Fire Nation’s colonies in the Earth Kingdom,” Katara shrugged, “He wanted an impartial eye to look them over.” Though not always the most understanding of her emotions, Sokka could tell when his sister was preoccupied, and was just about to ask her if she was alright when she said, “Have you seen Aang?”

“I think he’s over there,” Hakoda said, pointing across the room. “At least, I saw a lot of orange and yellow.” He raised an eyebrow, expression doubtful.

Katara nodded, “Thanks, Dad.”

Pushing through the crowds was a little easier than she expected, though maybe it was because she was so recognisable, people were eager to get out of her way. For whatever reason, she soon found herself surrounded by the familiar faces of Air Acolytes, all chattering together excitedly about the Summit and what was expected to happen.

“Katara!” said one of them brightly, “Are you looking for Avatar Aang?”

“I am,” she admitted, “Have you—?”

“He’s with the Fire Lord,” said about three voices before Katara could even finish her question. She was about to ask where the Fire Lord _was_ when a voice rang up above the noise.

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, the Fire Lord graciously invites you to take your seats, so that the feast may begin.”

With an air of calm dignity, everybody made their way to their allotted seats. Katara was at the head table, Aang on her right and Hakoda on her left. On Hakoda’s left was Sokka, then Suki. On Aang’s right was Zuko, holding place at centre seat, then Iroh. Sitting down, she looked out across the room, how the three long tables had been pushed together to form three sides of a square, a large space in the centre for the various forms of entertainment that had been scheduled. Katara knew that Suki and the other Kyoshi warriors had prepared a weapons dance with their fans, and if rumours were to be believed, the Dragon of the West would be performing a show of his own.

Once everyone was seated, Zuko—who was still standing—raised his hands. “Ladies and gentlemen of the Four Nations,” he announced, “I am honoured by your agreeing to meet, here, in the Fire Nation, that which was the seat of so much wrongdoing these past one-hundred years. Tomorrow, the work of restoring our world to its proper glory commences, but tonight, we celebrate!”

There was a hearty cry of assent from the assembled dignitaries, and they all raised their glasses in a toast. Then, the dinner began, and the room was warm and inviting with charged conversation, people weaving fantastical tales of their homelands, eager to inform the others of their lives, and learn about others’ lives in turn. Katara looked out across the room and couldn’t suppress a grin. Only a year and a half ago, all this would’ve been a complete impossibility. The world had been so utterly different back then, it felt like a million lifetimes ago, another universe entirely.

“Katara?” Aang asked gently, and she turned to him, a little dazed.

“What?” she blurted, then, “Sorry, I was… lost in thought.” She looked at the room again. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

“Me, neither,” he grinned, “The world’s at peace, the Four Nations are getting along, it… it’s wonderful.”

“It is,” she agreed, then let out a delighted squeak when a servant approached the pair of them and set a small plate before each of them. Casting a glance around the tables, Katara saw that everyone had been served an identical dish: a traditional Fire Nation starter course, Zuko explained to them.

Each meal at the Summit had been split into several smaller dishes so that a food from each Nation would be present at each, encouraging everyone to sample a range of starters, mains and desserts from all over the world. Personally, Katara tended not to like Fire Nation food—it was too spicy—but as soon as she took the first wary bite, she realised that it must have been prepared differently, perhaps with the Summit’s attendants in mind, because it was much milder than normal. It was also very tasty.

“I’m sorry, Katara,” Aang murmured, taking her hand under the table and squeezing it affectionately. “I’ve been a real jerk to you these past couple days. I think I was just worried about the Summit, and, well… I know how much the Kya School means to you. So I was thinking maybe we could go there for a few weeks in the winter, for the New Year’s celebrations.”

“That’s nice, Aang. I like that idea,” she admitted, squeezing his hand back. “I’m sorry, too, I guess.”

“I wanted to tell you last night,” he said, “But you were helping Zuko with those plans—” For some reason, Katara felt a flash of guilt stab through her. But why? Was it because she was lying, in a way—because she hadn’t been helping Zuko with the plans, but dressing up as a Blue Spirit? No, that wasn’t it…

“—I wanted to tell you that I was sorry,” Aang went on, pulling her back to the present. “That I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, to… to make you feel like you weren’t being listened to, or think that I didn’t understand how much the Water Tribe means to you—I mean, that’s your culture, just like the Air Nomads are mine.” He laced their fingers together and smiled at her. “I want to listen to you. I want to hear what you have to say.”

When had tears welled in her eyes? Katara raised her free hand to wipe at them, a little stunned. Was she sad or happy? That feeling of guilt persisted.

Aang raised their linked fingers to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand. “You know I love you, right?”

She smiled at him. “I do,” she promised, “And I love you, too.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Turning back to her food, and then to the entertainment—Iroh apparently _was_ performing a show, given by how a servant was pulling back his seat and tidying away his plate—Katara decided to herself that she _could_ do this. Aang was willing to change, after all. He wanted to be there for her, to make her happy, and she wanted to do the same for him.

_We can do this_, she thought, _I can do this_. It was going to be okay. She loved him. That was the only part that mattered. She loved him.

She loved him.

_Right?_


	6. Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first week of talks is over, so Katara and the others decide to spend the weekend on Ember Island. Aang tries to talk to Katara about their relationship.

The next few days passed in a blur. It was a whirlwind of political meetings, extravagant dinners, a labyrinth of impeccable manners and cultural intrigue. Really, before she knew it, Katara was preparing for the dinner at the end of the first week. The following weekend would be a time for the delegates to rest, recuperate, and partake in some of the Fire Nation’s culture outside the palace. Several luxury boats were set to leave for Ember Island, taking whomever in the delegations wished to spend their weekend there. From what she understood, almost everyone wanted to. Even as the Fire Nation’s reputation as a ruthless war state had consumed all else of what the other Nations thought, Ember Island’s reputation as a tranquil paradise had flourished. It was the height of summer, and the sweet breeze of the sea beckoned them.

“I was thinking,” Zuko remarked to her during the dinner—it was styled as a buffet, so everyone was milling about the room, chatting and sipping drinks, and there were no set courses to be presented, only a multitude of trays with tiny, bite-sized versions of dishes—“That the closing dinner should be something more… spectacular. Like a masquerade.”

“A masquerade?” Katara echoed, frowning, “Why?”

“I could rattle off some vague symbolism about our crowns and titles being masks, but really I just think it would be fun.” He gave a shrug, and Katara wondered if she was imagining the amused curl to his lip, or if he really was attempting an in-joke. “And who knows? Maybe it will become a tradition.”

“Well, it’s at your discretion,” she replied, “Though I think your… _current_ mask might be a tad unsuitable.” She couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face.

“Just a bit,” he chuckled. Truthfully, he’d wondered if he was bold enough to wear the Blue Spirit mask anyway. Would people think it was some delightful joke, or would it sow suspicion? He’d eventually decided against it after he remembered that he was known for his skill with dao swords as well as firebending, and that was maybe one coincidence too many.

“Anyway,” he went on, “How have _you_ been this past week? I’ve barely talked to you. Are the trade talks going well?”

“We’ve been busy,” she shrugged. “But they have, I think. Lord Xiao-Li’s been thinking of opening a trade route to the South Pole, mainly fish that like the cold climate, in exchange for crops that need warmth and soil. And Sokka’s been talking with some of your engineers about adapting some of your war weapons for easier transport.”

“It’s as good a use for them as any,” he replied with a shrug. “I’d like for the technological developments to have some good in the world. Progress occurs in wartime, but it’s not progress towards peace.”

Katara smiled at that—Iroh was starting to rub off on him in a new way; he was developing his own brand of wisdom. “Well, he’s certainly got a lot of ideas. I think he’s going to start splitting his time between the South Pole and Kyoshi a little more.”

“Like you with Aang?” Zuko asked her. She flushed.

“Something similar,” she answered, the only answer she was willing to give. Suki and Sokka had only their own whims to listen to; free to travel to Kyoshi or the South Pole as often and as soon as they liked. If she was to travel with Aang, she wasn’t going to have that. She was increasingly at the behest of the Avatar, if she chose to remain his companion.

Suddenly, the Fire Nation climate seemed too oppressively hot and stuffy, the room too crowded, the smell of food too cloying. “I need some air,” she muttered, completely interrupting Zuko, who’d been saying something to her, but she hadn’t been listening. “Sorry,” she added, as she pushed past him and wove through the crowd in search of an exit, a window, _anything_.

In the past week, she’d grown relatively familiar with at least part of the palace, and soon found herself in the courtyard, breathing cool, sweet night air, basking in the pale light of the moon. The breeze was comforting on her skin, and the starlight reflecting off the rippling ponds was calming. She sat down by the edge of the largest pond and sighed.

“Oh, Yue,” she murmured, tilting her head back to gaze up at the moon. “I thought I’d sorted it all out. I thought it was all okay… but I’m just _more_ confused, now. What do I do?” She remembered how Yue had been so devoted to her people, to doing her duty. She had commanded herself with quiet strength, graceful determination. Even though Katara had only known her a short time, she had found a true friend in Princess Yue, now the Moon Spirit. They would have been best friends, she just knew. Like sisters, and maybe even sisters through marriage, if she hadn’t sacrificed herself.

“Katara?” With a start, Katara looked around to see a figure silhouetted by the light from the party inside. As they grew closer, stepping into the light of the moon, she realised it was Suki.

“Oh, hey, Suki,” she muttered, turning back to rest her chin on her knees and gaze at the moon’s reflection. “What’re you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Suki replied, sitting down next to Katara. She wore robes similar to her Kyoshi armour, but the embroidery was more intricate, the leather panels replaced with stiff cotton designed to look beguiling rather than deflect a weapon. Her mask of elegant make-up couldn’t hide the concern on her face, though, as she looked at Katara. “Talk to me, Katara,” she implored, “Something’s wrong—it has been since you got here.”

Katara swallowed, then shook her head. “I think it’s been wrong a lot longer than that,” she whispered. There. She’d said it. The first admission that all was not well.

Suki’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean?”

Katara gave a shrug. “Aang… Aang and I have been having… problems.”

“What kind of… problems?” Suki asked, raising an eyebrow. The moonlight reflected off her gold headpiece.

“Like…” The right words evaded her, and Katara grimaced. “Like I think he’s in love with an… with an _idea_ of me,” she said slowly, “He wants me to be this devoted girlfriend, who cheers him on all the time and is always at his side and… I _want_ to be there for him, I do. But… not in the way _he_ wants. I feel like…” She heaved a sigh. “Like he doesn’t care about what _I_ want. And I can’t argue with him because he’s the Avatar.”

“So?” Suki deadpanned. Katara stared at her.

“What?”

“I said, _so?_” Suki repeated. “Yeah, he’s the Avatar, but that doesn’t mean you should drop your entire life for him. Of course he needs friends and support, and of course you’ll give it to him, but _everyone_ needs support.” She paused. “Especially you.”

Katara blinked. “Why especially me?”

Suki chuckled. “Because you give so much of yourself to everyone. You want to be that devoted girlfriend for Aang to help him, and to make sure he can focus and do his job. You want to teach waterbenders the Southern Tribe way of doing things, you want to rebuild the Tribe and open up trade routes—you’re helping Zuko reform the Fire Nation colonies!” she exclaimed. “You live to help people, Katara, and for that you need to accept some help of your own.”

“But Aang’s the—”

“Yes, he’s the Avatar,” she agreed, “And I know he’s only fourteen, but you were only fourteen when this whole adventure _started_. He needs to understand that his duties as Avatar can’t control his personal life and vice-versa. He has to be able to… to do his job on his own. Not that we won’t all support him, but no one can be there for someone every second of every day. Your first duty should always be to yourself. And that’s not selfishness, that’s self-care.” She paused, trying to find the right words, then said softly, “You can’t give what you don’t have.”

Katara swallowed, tears shining in her eyes. “But I love him,” she protested quietly.

“I don’t doubt that,” Suki replied, “Not for a second. But do you love him like he wants you to love him? Like maybe _you_ want to?”

Katara didn’t respond, and that was all the answer either of them needed.

Suki wrapped her arms around Katara’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “You don’t get to choose who you love,” she said gently, “And there’s nothing wrong with that. What’s wrong is what you do with that love. Forcing yourself to be with someone you don’t love isn’t fair to you, and it isn’t fair to them, either. You need to talk to Aang. You both need to figure out what you want from this relationship, and if it can’t add up, then you shouldn’t force it.”

Katara hugged her back, and after they parted, she giggled. “When did you get so wise?” she asked.

“Excuse you, I’ve always been wise,” she exclaimed, mock offended. “Now, are you going to go back inside and talk to your boyfriend, or d’you wanna stay out here a little longer?” Her eyes drifted to the pond, the dappled light dancing across the surface of the water.

“Mm, I think I’ll stay here for a bit,” Katara replied, “I like it out here.”

Suki nodded and headed back inside, and Katara looked up at the moon again. Aang had apologised to her, and he really did seem eager to repair the distance between them. He was only fourteen, of course he would be a little self-centred—hadn’t _she_ stolen a waterbending scroll at that age, tried to one-up him in waterbending?—he would learn to be more aware of others, more considerate of their feelings. Then, maybe, they could be like Sokka and Suki; travelling to see each other whilst pursuing their individual passions.

Back inside, the dinner was continuing with the same merriment, and Katara cast her eyes around, looking for Aang and the Acolytes. They must have been spread too thinly around the room, however, because she couldn’t see any yellow or orange.

A presence at her back made her turn, and she saw Zuko smiling down at her.

“Are you okay?” he asked. She nodded.

“I just needed some air,” she replied. Not wholly a lie, but she saw something flicker in his eyes; an understanding between the two of them that had started the night they’d gone to hunt Yon Rha, that had been sparked again with only the slip of a mask.

“There are a lot of people here,” Zuko admitted, but there was a carefulness to his tone that caught her ear, as if to say _read between the lines_. “I might get some air myself, later.”

The idea beguiled her. “I might join you—if that’s alright,” she added. He smiled.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked, “I enjoy your company.”

“Fire Lord Zuko!” Someone was calling his name, and the shift in the crowd to Katara’s left—Zuko’s right—preceded a Fire Nation official popping out from the mass of people. ‘Popping’ was the right word; he squeezed himself from the people only to be forced out and standing at Zuko’s side. He bowed low. “King Kuei wanted me to inform you that the talks for the colonies will require more than the remaining five days of the Summit and has requested that negotiations continue by message with the help of ambassadors.”

“Of course, Jusha,” Zuko agreed, nodding sagely. “I will happily house whomever he elects to be the Earth Kingdom’s ambassador—I want these negotiations to be resolved as smoothly as possible.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” Jusha replied, bowing again, then bowing to Katara. “Master Katara,” he muttered, then scampered back into the crowd.

Katara turned to Zuko with a raised eyebrow. “I thought this weekend was about relaxing, enjoying the Fire Nation’s culture,” she remarked. He chuckled.

“Politics never rests,” he said, “And honestly, I don’t think I’ll be relaxing much this weekend, anyway. I need to prepare for the second week.”

Katara frowned. “Do you want some help? I was going to go to Ember Island with Aang and the others, but we could—”

“No, no,” Zuko said quickly, raising his hands, “You should go. You’ve already helped me with the plans, I don’t want to spoil your fun.”

An amused smile curled her lip. “It’s now about spoiling my fun, Zuko, I want to help,” she insisted.

He matched her expression. “You can help me by stopping and relaxing for a few days,” he said. “I can’t have my best Water Tribe advisor bedridden with exhaustion, now, can I?”

His reply made note in her mind for several reasons. For one, it was a near echo of what Suki had told her outside. For another… “I’m your best Water Tribe advisor?”

“Of course,” he smiled, as if it were obvious. “Now, please, Katara, go have fun on Ember Island—in fact, I’ve instructed the palace servants to set you up in my old family home.”

“You mean the one we stayed in when we—”

“Uh-huh.” A cheeky grin almost—_almost_—found it’s way onto his face. It got lost along the way and a mere ghost graced his lips in a twitch of a smile. “It’s been cleaned, though, so it should be nicer.”

Now _that_ was an offer just a little too tempting to refuse. And, maybe she was riding on the delight of his compliment, but she decided to take him up on it. “Alright, Zuko, I’ll go to Ember Island,” she conceded, “But I’d still like to get some air later.”

His smile was wry, and his eyes glittered like chips of amber. “I had no doubt of that,” he replied, then swept off into the crowd to mingle.

* * *

By the time the party had died down, and everyone had returned to their rooms either to sleep or to enjoy many nightcaps—Fire Nation liqueur was as potent and spicy as the rest of its cuisine—Katara lay on her bed, gazing up at the blue canopy, marvelling once again at the décor of her room as she waited for the hour they’d agreed upon.

This was so exciting, she thought to herself. Much better than sitting around an Air Temple all day, doing chores. She _had_ to talk to Aang, to sort everything out before it got so serious they’d have to break up or something.

In fact, she’d considered asking Aang along to this, but wasn’t sure what he’d think of her and Zuko dressing up as spirits and terrorising (admittedly guilty) Fire Nation citizens. Also… there was something about these excursions that she liked staying between her and Zuko. Something just for them.

Eventually—it felt as though she’d been waiting hours, though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, really—she heard the clock tower toll, and knew it was time. She slipped on her mask, pried open the window of her room and became a wraith stealing through the shadows, until she came to the window of Zuko’s chambers.

He was already crouched, foxcat-like, on the ledge, his eyes—also quite foxcat-like, now she thought about it—trained on her, a sly smile on his face that was hidden when he, too, slipped on his mask.

“Ready?” he asked, and she nodded behind her mask’s grin. He hopped down, swords glinting in the moonlight, and they were off.

_This_, Katara knew, was her true passion. Helping people by any means necessary, any way she was able. Healing and teaching were all well and good, but there was only so much that could be solved with kindness and passivity. It was a delicate balance, as all things were. Too much and _you_ would be the tyrant. Too little and you were crushed under their heel.

Helping people, those who needed her, those who couldn’t help themselves, they were the only thing in the world she was sure she could devote her whole life to. Healing, teaching, dressing up as a spirit, even helping the political negotiations at the Summit, they all focused down to her _helping people_. When she was doing chores at the Temple, she wasn’t helping anyone. The Acolytes could do their own chores, Aang was comfortable and capable as their teacher and leader, as the Avatar. No one there needed her help.

Not like here.

There were things only _she_ could do—like negotiate as one of the Southern Water Tribes representatives, like accompany Zuko out on these excursions, like heal people who had been abandoned by everyone else. Aang had found his calling in being the Avatar, in restoring the airbenders’ culture.

But this? This was _her_ territory. After all, _she_ had been the one to dress as the Painted Lady. _She_ had been the one that had begged their group to stay and help people in need.

It was the early hours of the morning when they decided to call it a night, and perched atop the roof of one of the buildings in the lower part of the city, crowded and ramshackle. The light of the moon reflected off the white and blue enamel of their masks, highlighting the empty black eyes and too-wide grins of the spectres.

“You and Aang were looking happier this afternoon,” Zuko remarked, one leg braced on the very top of the roof, arm resting on his knee. Not for the first time, Katara was thankful for the mask, how it hid her blush.

“I really think he’s starting to listen to me,” she replied, “I think… he’s learning. My place is in the Water Tribe, his is in the Air Temple. But… we can make it work. Split our time more. Or each other.”

“It works for Sokka and Suki,” Zuko admitted, “As long as you’re both happy.”

Katara turned to him sharply, surprise obvious even though he couldn’t see her face. “Dad said something similar,” she noted. “Asked me if I was happy.”

Zuko cocked his head. “Surely, in a relationship, that’s the most obvious thing?” he asked, “If you’re not happier than if you were alone… what’s the point?”

Katara pushed up her mask to bear her face to the cool night breeze. Her blue eyes were impossibly bright against the darkness, contrasting the reds of the city. “Duty?” she suggested, not looking at him, and he wondered if she was thinking of herself, or of Mai. “Devotion?”

“Admirable, but not a good enough reason to stay in a relationship with someone,” Zuko replied, “If you have the choice of loving who you want… you should take it.”

His tone was glum as he said this, and with a pang Katara realised that this was an option not open to Zuko. He would have to marry for peace, for honour, to uphold the Fire Nation’s traditions—likely some Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation noble.

“I hope…” she began, then trailed off. What? What did she hope? “I hope whoever you end up with… they’re nice. If you can’t love them, they should at least be a friend.”

“Mai had the same idea,” he said, “I respect it. And… thank you, really. But…” He pushed up his own mask and with a sigh, gazed out across the city. “Is it so bad that I’m holding out? I see Sokka and Suki, they’re so… casual with each other. I’d like that.”

This, Katara understood. Zuko had spent his childhood surrounded by strict social customs and a stricter father. He had been terrorised with expectations and smothered by tradition. To have someone truly on his side, some not governed by those customs… it would be his only real ally in the palace, with his mother dead and his uncle in Ba Sing Se.

“That’s why you let Mai go, isn’t it?” she asked quietly. Zuko nodded, eyes cast downwards.

“I’m happy for you and Aang,” he said, “Really. It’s obvious how much he adores you.”

Katara nodded, not really trusting herself to speak.

“We should get back,” Zuko then said, “It’s getting late—or, early.”

Without further discussion, they replaced their masks and leapt off the roof, down into the shadows.

* * *

Truly, the few days reprieve on Ember Island were well-earned and well-needed. Sokka and Suki benefitted the most—being highly important representatives from Kyoshi Island and Southern Water Tribe, respectfully, they hadn’t been able to share quarters whilst at the Summit, and now they were away from the judgemental eyes of various delegates, they were free to do as they pleased.

“I still hate sand,” Toph muttered, as they all stomped down to the beach—aside from Aang, who’d insisted that he would catch up with them in a minute. Toph had insisted on taking the room furthest away from Sokka and Suki’s, on account of her excellent hearing and her ability to read vibrations with her feet. They were, to quote directly, ‘completely disgusting’, and not in the cute way.

Now that they were on Ember Island, he felt he could talk to Katara—_really_ talk. Away from the prying eyes of the Nations’ delegates, away from the palace servants: just him and her, a real _talk_.

He had questions, that was all. No doubts, no accusations, but questions.

“Hey, Katara,” he asked on the afternoon of the first day. She and Suki were on the beach, basking in the sunlight. Sokka was splashing about in the shallows, Toph was erecting sand-sculptures, chronicling their collective epic efforts to end the War last year. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Katara sat up, expression curious. “Sure, Aang,” she replied, getting to her feet and brushing the sand off her clothes. They walked up the little path towards Zuko’s old beach house and sat on the wooden steps of the porch—considerably cleaner, shinier, and less splinter-prone than the steps from last year. Whoever had refurbished the house had done a magnificent job.

“What is it?” she asked, brushing her hair back over her shoulders, wondering if she should cut it short like Suki—at the very least, her neck would stay cool.

Aang swallowed. “Uh… Earlier this week, before—before the Summit started. One of the Acolytes said she saw you and Zuko, uh… walking together.”

Katara blinked. “Okay. And?”

“I just… wanted to know what that was about,” he finished vaguely, “You and him have been spending a lot of time together since we got here.”

“Of course we have, I’ve been helping him out,” Katara shrugged, getting the sense that a fight was coming on, but doing her best to remain neutral and not assume anything. “And I haven’t seen him in a year. He _is_ our friend.”

“He is,” Aang agreed, and it was the truth. Despite a… rocky start to their friendship, Aang had found a true friend in Zuko and vice-versa. They complimented each other nicely—one calm and optimistic, the other reserved and pragmatic. Sometimes Aang found Zuko grumpy, and sometimes Zuko found Aang childish, but they _were_ friends.

Which was what made this all the more difficult for him to put into words.

“But,” he went on, “Maybe I’m being… I dunno… stupid, but… I feel left out? I don’t want you to feel like you have to go to Zuko to be listened to and respected,” he explained, “I want you to be able to come to _me_ with those problems—I’m your boyfriend, you _should_ feel like you can come to me.”

Katara blinked, not speaking for several moments, forcing herself to think his words over. “Yes, Aang, but… sometimes I won’t be able to talk to you. That’s just the way life is.”

His eyes went wide. “What… what do you mean?”

“I _mean_ that one person can’t be someone’s entire support system,” she replied carefully. “I can’t talk to you about every problem I have because some of those problems you’re just… not suited to hearing.”

Aang frowned, growing frustrated and with it, angry. “Like what?” he demanded.

Katara’s temper flared in kind. “Like when the problem is _you!_” she exclaimed, “Suki comes to me with stuff about Sokka, and I’m sure he talks to you and Zuko about Suki, too! And some problems… you’re a boy, Aang, and an airbender, some problems you just won’t get because we’re so different.” She paused. “I’m allowed to talk to other people, I’m allowed to confide in other people. And… and you should too.”

Only now was it dawning on her that Aang apparently expected her to bear the weight of all his problems, and whilst he was inviting her to do the same to him, he didn’t seem to understand that that just wasn’t possible—and it was unhealthy to try.

“You… don’t want to talk to me?” Ang asked in a small voice, “You don’t want me to talk to you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” she warned, standing up, “I’m happy to listen to you, Aang, and I’m happy to talk to you—I love you, we love each other. But I can’t be the only person _there_ for you. People… people don’t work like that. I’m not your only friend, and you’re not my only friend. And… some things… Zuko understands better than you.”

Aang frowned, growing almost offended. “Like what?” he asked, “I’m the Avatar!”

_Yes, you’re the Avatar, and you’re loathe to let me forget it._

“Like… like with the Southern Raiders,” she said in a low voice, “Forgiveness was your way, not mine. You couldn’t… you couldn’t support my way, you didn’t even listen. Zuko didn’t agree with it either, but he was… he was _there_ even though it wasn’t my… my best side. He understood that I needed to do what I did, I needed to confront Y—_him_.”

“So Zuko’s better than me, then?” Aang accused, and she glared at him.

“I never said that!” she cried, “He’s my _friend_, alright? I’m allowed to have friends, Aang, I _should_, we _both_ should! Honestly—!” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “What’s gotten _into_ you recently? Why this sudden obsession with Zuko?”

“I could ask you the same,” Aang retorted, but it had less venom that time, and sounded more sheepish. “Just… ever since you forgave him—or, no. Ever since we went to see the Ember Island players…” He supposed being back on Ember Island had made those memories resurface more vividly than he’d anticipated.

Katara stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. “You mean that stupid _play? _Where the actors playing me and Zuko—? You were a _woman_ in that play, Aang! Toph was a huge man! You should know of all people that it wasn’t—wasn’t _accurate!_”

“It’s not just the play!” he exclaimed, “Afterwards—I kissed you. And you…” He trailed off again.

Katara folded her arms. “I’m not apologising for that,” she said firmly, “I told you I was confused and you kissed me anyway. I…” The words choked her. “I love you, Aang, but that wasn’t okay—and this isn’t, either. You’re jealous of Zuko because of a play?”

“I don’t know!” he cried, throwing out his hands, “I just—I want you to be able to talk to me! And you’ve never been able to talk to me like you’ve been able to talk to him, even though you threatened to _kill_ him last year! I’m your _boyfriend_, you’re supposed to confide in _me!_”

“I _do_ confide in you, Aang,” she sighed, realising they’d circled right back to where they’d started. “But like I said, some things you have to talk about with other people.” She stepped forwards and took his hands in her own. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It just means I love other people, too. Can you honestly tell me you don’t love Toph and Sokka and Suki and Zuko? They’re your family. They’re _our_ family.”

Aang heaved a sigh. “I guess you’re right,” he admitted, and Katara’s heart fluttered. He was learning, _he was learning_. For once their arguments didn’t end in her swallowing her resentment for the sake of his peace of mind.

“I love you,” she said again, and the words came easier this time. “Now come on, let’s go watch Sokka make a horrible sculpture of Suki again.”

Aang laughed, and his fingers slipped easily into hers as they walked down the beach, content with each other as they hadn’t been for a long time.


	7. Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Gaang relax on Ember Island, they grow concerned for Zuko, who seems to be neglecting his own health amid ensuring the Summit goes smoothly. Katara talks to him and tries to figure out what's worrying him so much.

If there was truly to be no rest for the wicked, then Zuko was very wicked indeed. Whilst all his guests were lounging around on Ember Island for two days, he had a mountain of paperwork, a myriad of preparations to finish, and a Council meeting to attend. Even though the Summit was a momentous occasion, the Fire Nation still needed to be governed, and so long as he was in the capital he was expected to attend those meetings.

_I rise with the sun_, he’d once said, watching the sun crawl over the horizon as sluggishly as he moved himself from the bed. He’d gotten very little sleep this past week in particular, with the Summit on top of all his political duties (and ‘extracurriculars’), but then again he couldn’t really remember a time when he _hadn’t_ been at least a little sleep deprived. Even before he’d been banished, consumed by a desperate need to regain his honour, his waking hours had been long and arduous—he’d been the Crown Prince, after all.

He rose with the sun, but he didn’t set with it by any means.

Much of the ‘break’ had been a continuation of Katara’s first suggestions for the Fire Nation colonies to be removed—or, rather, disentangled—from the Earth Kingdom, as well as informing the palace servants that he had decided that the second week of the Summit _would_, in fact, be concluded with a grand masquerade.

But, he was finally satisfied with the plans, enough to present them to King Kuei’s ambassador, and indeed Kuei himself in the second week. No doubt Kuei’s advisors had been doing something similar, also working of Zuko and Katara’s initial proposal, and no doubt the two plans would be quite different and require a great deal of compromise.

Zuko was, however, only too happy to compromise so long as it was still possible. If not for the integration that had occurred, he would have simply ordered all the Fire Nation citizens to return to the Fire Nation and leave the Earth Kingdom be, but a hundred years was a long time—plenty long enough for families to form, for traditions and cultures to emerge. The Council was less inviting, and many still saw Zuko’s approach to ruling as soft, yielding and spitting on Fire Nation custom.

_The only custom I’m spitting on is that of war and terror_, he’d said calmly. _That is Earth Kingdom land, and they are Earth Kingdom people. Their wishes will come first, before any political agenda, including my own and even King Kuei’s_. He hoped Kuei would have a similar opinion—that the happiness and prosperity of these ‘dual-nationals’ would be his first priority rather than national pride. Only time would tell.

“My Lord?” A tentative knock at the door and an even more tentative voice caught his attention. “The first delegates are scheduled to return within an hour.”

“Understood,” he muttered around a yawn, “Send in my attendants.”

“Yes, my Lord,” came the reply, and barely a minute later, four servants bustled in, brandishing royal robes and hair brushes and his crown. He was barely aware as they dressed and styled him, so focussed on the rest of the Summit, and indeed very tired. He wouldn’t be going out tonight, he decided. He needed his sleep if he was to function as a ruler, as a diplomat, as a Blue Spirit, as anything. _You can’t give what you don’t have_, something Katara had said, something Suki had told her.

Once he was presentable, he’d regained some of his energy—namely thanks to a very strong tea his uncle had brewed him—and went outside to greet the returning diplomats. The first, he wasn’t surprised to see, were his friends, travelling not by boat, but by Appa.

“Hey, Zuko!” Aang grinned, flying off Appa’s head and landing right in front of Zuko, pulling him into a fierce hug. Zuko smiled and returned the hug, a bit less enthusiastically—but then, he’d always been the more reserved of the two.

“Did you enjoy the island?” he asked as they parted. Aang nodded, then cast a look over his shoulder to beam at Katara as she dismounted Appa.

“I think it was exactly what we needed after last week,” he said. Zuko followed Aang’s gaze, and smiled. He was glad those problems had been sorted out.

“Aang seems happy,” he remarked as he pulled Katara into a hug. She didn’t squeeze as tight as Aang did, but there was something warmer and sweeter about her hugs. Hers were more loving, Aang’s were more childish delight. “Are you?”

“More than I’ve been in a while,” she agreed, “And you? I hope you got some rest after last week.”

His mouth twisted. “Politics wait for no man,” he said, “I haven’t really slept.”

“Zuko!” Katara exclaimed, and by this point Sokka and Toph were also in hearing distance, and they cast him almost angry looks.

“You’re the Fire Lord, you’re useless if you’re sleep deprived!” Sokka scolded him.

“Yeah, you’re no good to us exhausted, Sparky,” Toph added. Zuko scowled at them all.

“I’m fine,” he said, “I’ll sleep when the Summit’s over.”

“You’ll sleep _now_,” Katara corrected him, putting her hands on her hips. “There’s still a few more hours before the rest of the delegations arrive.”

“And I still have a lot to prepare,” he retorted, not moving. Katara glared at him—some of their ‘strong personalities’ coming to clash once more.

“We can handle it, right guys?” Katara looked over at the other four, who all nodded firmly.

“I’ll greet Kuei and present your proposal,” Aang said, “He’ll probably like it more coming from me, anyway.”

“I’ll get the Dad’s lot settled for the talks with the Earth Kindgom,” Sokka added.

“And me and Toph can handle the others,” Suki agreed. “Katara’s right, Zuko, you need to sleep, and now’s probably the best time.”

“I can sleep tonight,” Zuko protested, irritated that the others were ganging up on him—but of course they would, because, loathe as he was to admit it, they were right.

And he _was_ tired…

As though a predator smelling blood in the water, Katara pounced as his resolve weakened. “You’re going to get some sleep, now!” she ordered, actually grabbing him by his shoulders, turning him around and shoving him inside. A nearby servant made a strangled wailing noise, horrified that a Water Tribe peasant would _manhandle_ the _Fire Lord_, but didn’t move to intervene. That Water Tribe peasant was Master Katara, one of the delegates all servants had been instructed to treat with the same deference as the Fire Lord himself.

Technically, she wasn’t a peasant, but to the surprise of absolutely no one, ‘princess-by-committee’ wasn’t good enough for the Fire Nation aristocracy.

So, everyone watched, either in horror (the servants) or baffled amusement (Sokka and the others) as Katara half-followed, half-shoved Zuko to his quarters and towards the bed. She stood in the doorway with her arms folded and looked at him pointedly.

“There are two hours until the others arrive at _least_,” she said, knowing how slow the boats would be, how unreasonably early Aang had wanted to leave so they could get back to the Summit, how much Kuei liked his lie-ins. “And until lunch, I don’t want you doing anything but getting some rest.”

He sat down on the bed, and even removed his boots, but still glowered at her. “You’re not in charge of me,” he told her crossly. She shrugged.

“Maybe not, but you still need sleep.” Her expression softened. “Why aren’t you sleeping, Zuko?” she asked, “Surely you know you need to. You can’t run yourself ragged like this. Especially with…” She glanced out into the hallway, but it was empty. “…the Blue Spirit out, terrorising the city,” she finished carefully, and decided to close the door. When she turned back to him, Zuko had taken his hair out of the topknot, and cradled his crown in his hands like a pond lily on its pad.

Zuko’s gaze was hollow as he stared at the crown. “I can’t,” he said. She blinked at him.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked, “Surely there are remedies that could help—”

“No,” he cut her off. “I _can’t_.” He looked up at her wretchedly. “I can’t let up, I can’t give them so much as an inch. I have to be able to do this, I_ have_ to. The Fire Nation is on the verge of tearing itself apart, the Earth Kingdom is just _waiting_ for me to slip up so they can destroy the colonies and probably invade the border islands, too. I… I have to be the perfect Fire Lord. I have to have all the plans, all the solutions, I have to keep the people happy and the Council placated. I _can’t_ sleep, there—there’s too much to do!”

Katara stared at him, mouth agape, and her hands fell limply down by her sides. Then, swallowing, she moved closer until she was standing right in front of him. With his being a head taller than her, and the bed itself being plush and high with a deep mattress, he was almost eye-level with her.

She placed a guilty hand on his shoulder, the other coming to rest on the crown in his hands. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, and he looked up at her, eyes bright, expression startled.

“Sorry?” he echoed, “Why? It’s not your fault.”

“You needed my help,” she said, “Our help. We’re your friends, Zuko. We’re supposed to be there for you. You’ve been suffering like this for a whole year and you didn’t tell us? We couldn’t tell for ourselves?”

“You couldn’t tell because I didn’t want you to know,” he said in a low voice, “I need to be able to do this myself. If I’m getting help from outsiders on how to govern my own people…” That would be more than enough to tip the scales into a civil war.

“Are you really so stubborn that you wouldn’t turn to us for help?” she asked softly, “Even in private? We’ve risked our lives for each other, Zuko, don’t you know you can come to us with anything?”

“That’s not the _point_,” he insisted desperately, one hand coming up to close around her wrist, still on his shoulder. His grip was tight, but not like he was grabbing her; like he was afraid of falling. “If I slip up—just once, they—they’ll come for me. They’ll win, they’ll put Azula on the throne and the world will burn. And I won’t,” he mumbled, “I won’t have my legacy be another war.”

She looked at him, somewhere between horrified and pitying. “I’m so sorry, Zuko,” she said again, “I just—you—_we’re here to help_,” she pleaded him. “Asking for help isn’t a weakness, and—and—” There were so many things she wanted to say to him. That they could help. That he needed to sleep. The way his mind worked around this problem was so deeply, worryingly _wrong_ that she didn’t even know where to start.

But what was the heart of the matter? What was the core fear deep inside him that pushed him to such limits, the same desperation inside him that had driven him to brave freezing arctic waters to capture the Avatar, almost fall off a cliff to save them, almost be electrocuted to save _her?_

She ducked her head to press her lips to the top of his hair, closing her eyes as she felt tears burn. Her friend had been so lost and so scared… and she hadn’t even _noticed_.

“You will not be the one to start another war,” she whispered against his hair, “La as my witness, it’s not in your nature. I can’t promise that it will be easy, it’s politics and greed and madness here, but… I’ll be there to help you every step of the way. And so will Sokka, and Aang, and Toph, and Suki, and your Uncle and Ty Lee and—and—_everyone_,” she finished breathlessly. “You’re not alone, Zuko. You never will be again.”

His arms were around her waist, clinging to her almost desperately, almost afraid. “I don’t want to be a warmonger,” he whispered, “I don’t want to be like my father.”

“Never,” she swore, pulling back so she could cup his face and raise his head to look at her, see how earnest her expression was. “I wouldn’t let you.”

“I can’t mess up,” he said desperately, “Everything has to go right. If I mess up, I’ll—I’ll—”

“You’ll have us right by your side to help with whatever the fallout is,” she told him firmly. “Whatever the future holds, you won’t face it alone, Zuko.”

“But what if—”

“But nothing,” she interrupted, “You’ll always have us, Zuko. You… you’ll always have _me_.” She took one hand from his face and rested it pointedly over his beating heart. Even through the thick silk of his robes, she could feel the rough, uneven scar. “Whatever happens. And you need to sleep if you’re going to be able to do what you need to do. Never mind the Council, or the Summit, or even the Blue Spirit—_you need sleep_. You’re only human.”

He sighed, slowly and heavily, and he knew she’d won.

“I don’t want to be a failure,” he murmured, bowing his head in defeat.

“You brought an end to the Hundred Years’ War, restored harmony to the Four Nations; you’d have to be working very hard to be a ‘failure’, Zuko,” she told him, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She covered one of his hands with both her own, gently teasing open his fingers and taking the crown from him, laying it to one side. “Get some sleep. Please. I promise everything will seem a lot more manageable when you’re rested.”

Without even waiting for Katara to step back, he undid the catch at his waist and let his robes come undone and slip off his shoulders, leaving him in only his breeches and a wide belt. She stared at the scar in the centre of his chest, at the hollow of his throat, at the stubborn slant to his mouth and how it looked just a little more timid than normal, how it had looked that way the whole time, but only now she really noticed it. He sat there, looking straight ahead, eyes level with her necklace.

“I want to be a good Fire Lord,” he said, but it was less desperate now, more determined. “I won’t let them tear the country apart.”

She smiled. “I know you won’t.” She turned to leave, to let him sleep, but he reached out and caught her wrist. His grip was light and gentle—she expected that if she’d so much as moved, he would’ve dropped her wrist and let her go. But she turned back to face him, eyebrows raised.

“Thank you, Katara,” he murmured, eyes hazy with sleep that had already half-claimed him. How exhausted was he, that in broad daylight, just being on a soft bed was sending him off?

The sight of him lying there, his scar visible, so tired and only half-aware, brought a memory to the forefront of her mind.

_I think I’m the one should be thanking you_, echoed her voice, and she fought back a sudden burn of tears, surprised at them. She wasn’t sad—was she?

“Get some sleep, Zuko,” she encouraged, “We’ll manage until you wake, I promise.”

“Okay…” he murmured, eyes closed, grip already slackening. She moved back, and her wrist slipped from his grasp.

By the time she reached the door, he was snoring softly.

* * *

Katara came into the main room of the palace, where the Summit’s dinners were held, to find Sokka and the others all sitting at the head table, with mildly concerned expressions on their faces.

“Is he alright?” Ty Lee asked, hovering nervously at Suki’s shoulder, but not looking at the papers Suki had in front of her.

“He will be,” Katara assured her, “He just needs some sleep. And… maybe to realise he can rely on us.”

Sokka’s eyebrows raised. “He didn’t know that already?” he asked.

Katara shrugged. “He does—did. But… the Fire Nation doesn’t like the idea of the Fire Lord relying so much on foreigners. Or something.” She had to admit she didn’t have a full grasp on the situation, aware of only the basic problems. Perhaps some of the reason Zuko hadn’t voiced these problems to the rest of them was because of the nuance. Only he, or a fellow Fire Nation citizen could truly understand.

_Fire Nation citizen_…

“Ty Lee,” she said, “Could you maybe… talk to him? When he wakes up? He might listen more if it’s coming from you—you live here, after all.” Aang and the others started nodding, but Ty Lee’s expression was slightly blank.

“Are you sure?” she asked, “I mean, I’m flattered, but I think you’re probably suited to this better, don’t you think? You just made him take a _nap_, I never could’ve done that.”

“That’s cause you’re too nice,” Toph said brusquely, “I could’ve made him do it.”

“Knocking him out doesn’t count,” Suki said flatly. Toph shrugged.

“He’s terrified of making a mistake,” Katara told them, “And I don’t blame him—there are a lot of people in the Fire Nation who would rather see Azula on the throne, enough to start a civil war.”

“And another war against the other Nations,” Sokka reasoned darkly. “So what do we do?”

Katara sighed. “I’m… not really sure. Make sure he sleeps, for one. And just… try to make him see he’s not on his own. The Earth Kingdom and the Water Tribes want to preserve peace as much as he does, they’ll stand with him against any… would-be usurpers.” Her mouth twisted.

Suki raised an eyebrow. “Did he tell you this?” she asked.

“Uh… not exactly,” Katara replied carefully. Maybe that was a slight lie, but for some reason expressing the full extent of Zuko’s fear—that he’d been that vulnerable, that honest—felt like betraying his trust, in a way. Yes, he’d been sleep-deprived, but even so…

“We’ll do what we can,” Suki told her, nodding firmly.

Just then, Iroh entered the room.

“Have any of you seen Fire Lord Zuko?” he asked,

“He’s asleep, Iroh,” Toph answered, her tone gentler than if anyone else—except maybe Sokka—had asked.

Iroh frowned, then nodded. “It is just as well,” he reasoned, “My nephew has been burning his candle at both ends recently, I had begun to fear for his wellbeing.”

“Like when he was hunting me?” Aang asked, without any hint of animosity. Iroh nodded again.

“Zuko is a very driven young man,” he said, “Sometimes, he neglects his own health for the sake of his goals.” His eyes went to Katara. “Perhaps you would have noticed that, Lady Katara. After all, you were there when he battled Azula for the throne.”

Suddenly, Katara’s throat felt very tight, and she didn’t trust herself to speak, so she only nodded.

Iroh smiled at her. “Come,” he said to them, “We have much to do before the delegations return to the palace.”

* * *

It was evening before Zuko finally opened his eyes again, and when he did, he jumped to his feet at the sight of the setting sun.

“I slept through the whole _day?_” he exclaimed, horrified, and without even bothering to dress he dashed for the door of his chambers to see Katara there, hand raised as if meaning to knock.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, startled. “You’re… awake!”

“You let me sleep all day!” he half-snapped. “I was supposed to meet with Kuei about the colonies! And Hakoda about those trade-routes—”

“Aang showed the colony plans to Kuei, and your uncle was talking to Dad about the trade routes—but really, do you think Dad’s gonna hold it against you if you take a day? You’re practically Sokka’s age.”

“I have _duties_, Katara!” he insisted, heading back into his room and pulling on his robes. “I… I _told_ you I can’t—I can’t afford to ‘take days’ like this. I can’t afford to be seen as weak.”

She fixed him with an almost withering look. “Give me some credit, Zuko, I _know_ that,” she said, “And I promise, you didn’t come off as lazy or anything—in fact we told everyone that you were working on a ‘grand finale’ to the Summit,” she added.

He blinked. “I am? I mean—you did?”

Katara’s eyes glittered mischievously. “You mentioned something about a masquerade,” she said, “And Iroh told me you started making plans. Kuei’s quite excited, actually—he wants to make a bear mask for himself, and a Kuei mask for Bosco.”

He had to chuckle, at that. Katara was pleased to hear that sound. Even though they were friends now, it wasn’t something she heard often. He had a nice laugh, though—rich and rasping—and she wished it wasn’t such a rare sound.

“I really am sorry,” she said again, “For not realising something was wrong. Even if you were trying to hide it,” she cut him off before he could protest, “I’m your friend. And friends help each other.”

Zuko smiled. “Well, I’m better rested than I have been in days, so I guess I can’t argue against that,” he admitted. There was a pause. “So… do you know what you’ll dress as for the masquerade?”

Katara shrugged, but another smile played at her lips. “I… have an idea,” she said evasively.

* * *

Once more, the week passed by in a myriad blur of negotiations and compromise. Kuei and Zuko came to an agreement for the colony reformations, and Kuei presented his chosen ambassador—a young man by the name of Hiresh—and Zuko likewise presented his own—a woman of certain age called Akane. She was one of the few members of the Council who had leant to Iroh’s side in the war, and was pleased to see Ozai’s kinder, more patient child sitting on the Throne of Fire.

Aang had been discussing with Bumi about sending a few crews of earthbenders to the Southern and Eastern Air Temples, in the hope that by the time next year’s Summit rolled around, the Southern one would be completed and ready to host. He was also eager to restore the other Temples, of course, but the Southern one was his priority. Toph had volunteered her own services on the condition that it didn’t interfere with her school.

Sokka and Hakoda had spent most of their time negotiating trade routes with the other Nations and even with the Northern Tribe. Though the waters were just as cold at the North Pole, there were some species of fish native only to the South, and there was a Northen delicacy—some kind of land-mammal, Sokka couldn’t remember it’s name—that the South was eager to try in turn.

And Katara, well, had been part of everything in some way or another. She had helped draw up the preliminary plans for the colony reformations, had discussed with both Water Tribes about trading between themselves and with other Nations, and had even spoken to Bumi about the Air Temple reconstruction.

By the time the end of the week, and the subsequent closing banquet and masquerade approached, everyone was utterly beat, and ready for some well-earned fun.

At her request, the palace attendants had given Katara some silk ribbons and a few other supplies so she could embellish her formal robes and fashion a matching mask for the banquet. Since she’d prescribed Zuko to a strict regime of actually-sleeping-at-night, her evenings once talks had concluded had been free, and the act of stitching a costume had been somewhat relaxing. The repetitive nature of the task had been soothing after the frenzy of politics.

And it was exciting, really, to slip on the embellished robes, fasten in place the mask, and see what her efforts had wrought in the large mirror.

The blue robes, edged in elaborate silver embroidery, shimmered, and the delicate ribbons wound around the waist and cuffs gave the impression of something slightly ethereal, something not wholly human. The slightest movement made her shimmer, and the slight breeze through the open window ruffled her hair, making the silver thread woven into her braids ripple like liquid.

Her mask covered only the top half of her face, the bottom covered in blue and white paint—swirling patterns and deep blue lips, accents around her eyes behind the large holes in the mask. Some kind of glittery substance had been provided, and between this and the meticulous stitching of the ribbons, making them fall just-so, there was no mistaking what her costume was.

Tui, the Spirit of the Moon.

She had hesitated at first, wondering if it was some intrusion on Yue, but one look at the moon’s calm, sweet light had assured her that Yue was only amused and touched. This was the spirit that had taught the first waterbenders, and there was no doubt Katara was one of the greatest waterbending Masters ever to live.

Her mother’s necklace gleamed at her throat, above the silver-and-white collar of her robes. Katara brushed her fingers over the smooth stone, wishing not for the first time that her mother could see what she and Sokka had made of themselves, that the war was over and the world was once again at peace. Her mother’s legacy had been the two people who’d stopped the war, who had found the Avatar.

A loud gong then rang out through the palace; a signal to all the guests that the dinner and masquerade were about to begin. Casting one final glance in the mirror, grinning at her ethereal and near-unrecognisable reflection, Katara ducked out of her room and headed for the banquet hall.


	8. Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final political talks of the Summit are ended, and the delegations prepare to enjoy a final night of revelry to send off everyone with good spirits and the hope of continuing the new peace. Amid all the dancing, however, Katara is surprised by her own protective streak, and is forced to confront a difficult question because of it.

In the span of only the few hours since the final talks had concluded, the hall of the palace had been utterly transformed. Streamers and lanterns of every colour imaginable draped from the ceiling, intricate designs of coloured glass casting rainbow fractals of light into every corner. The long tables had been replaced with many smaller ones dotted about the edge of the room, the centre space cleared for more fabulous entertainment and—hopefully—dancing.

The room was filled with glittering guests, just as beautiful as the room itself. Exquisite costumes, elaborate masks, most of them utterly unrecognisable. The only thing any spectator could be sure of was their Nation, but beyond that, Katara was sure she couldn’t even pick Sokka and Aang out from the crowd.

Stepping into the throng was another beast entirely, and though she had spent countless hours in this room before, it seemed completely new to her with the decorated walls and even more decorated guests. She spent several long moments just turning in a slow, awed circle, entirely unaware of the stares _she_ was getting, standing in the centre of the room as she was, looking as she did.

“You like it?”

She turned around suddenly to see a tall stranger in red and gold robes, their mask comprised of hundreds of tiny golden scales. After a moment, she realised it was a dragon mask, and the person behind it was Zuko. She grinned.

“It’s beautiful,” she told him, “How did they all manage this?”

Zuko shrugged. “I honestly have no idea, but they did a wonderful job.” He cast his gaze straight upwards, to where the gold chandelier had been festooned with sheer ribbons and gauzy tendrils fluttered down. The ceiling was so high, even the longest ones were still several feet above everyone’s heads. “Have you seen Uncle yet?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “All these masks, this funny lighting—I doubt I’ll be able to recognise _anyone_.”

“I know what you mean,” Zuko murmured, adjusting his own mask. “Will you excuse me? I have to toast the end of the Summit.” He picked up two glasses from the tray of a passing servant and handed one to her. Without raising it to her nose to sniff it, she could feel the tingling of spices in her nose, and knew it was some of that sweet, spiced wine. It was actually quite nice, if you could get over the burning sensation.

Taking the glass, Katara nodded. “It’s almost over,” she said to him, “And it’s gone wonderfully so far.”

She couldn’t really see his face behind the dragon mask, but it was more than she could see when they were dressed up as Blue Spirits, and she could tell he was smiling relievedly as she spoke. Inclining his head respectfully, he headed for the stage in the centre of the room and removed his mask so everyone could see it was, indeed, the Fire Lord.

“My friends, my esteemed guests,” he called, and the room fell silent almost at once, “It’s been two weeks of hard work and harder bargains, but it’s my great pleasure to officially announce the first Peace Summit of the Four Nations officially over, and entirely successful!” He raised his glass, and everyone else followed suit with a loud cheer. “Furthermore, I look forward to another night of celebrating our cultures together, and another year of peace and prosperity for us all!”

The cheer was so loud as to be deafening that time, and they all drank deep. Katara grinned up at the stage. They’d done it—they’d _actually_ done it. The Four Nations had held a peace summit, the war was never coming back.

She hoped Zuko realised this, too, that he didn’t need to worry so much. There were people in the Fire Nation against him, of course, but so many were with him, too.

“I never thought I’d live to see a day like this,” remarked a large Water Tribe man who had appeared at her side, and with a start Katara realised it was her own father behind the wolf mask and war paint. She gave him a glittery grin.

“We did good, didn’t we, Dad?”

He nodded, beaming down at her. “I don’t think a father has ever been prouder of his children,” he said earnestly, laying a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. “Aang was looking for you earlier, by the way. He’s wearing a skybison mask.”

“Of course he is,” Katara murmured, amused. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

She found him soon enough, hovering in the air in the centre of a group of Acolytes, all wearing masks that looked like mountain and air spirits Aang had pointed out in books. Aang, however, was clearly dressed to resemble Appa, in robes of thick white fur and a sparkling eye-mask with fake horns protruding from the sides. He’d painted over his tattoo in brown paint so it resembled Appa’s marking and it was honestly a decent effort.

“Katara!” he grinned, floating over the Acolytes and landing beside her. “You look _amazing_,” he exclaimed, gazing at her in awe. “Are you the Moon Spirit?”

She nodded. “Tui.”

“Well, you’re certainly the most beautiful spirit _I’ve_ ever seen,” he told her, taking her hand and planting a kiss on her cheek. His lips came away slightly stained with white paint. Katara giggled, and wiped it away with her thumb.

“Might wanna hold off on kissing when I’m wearing this,” she told him, “It took me ages to get it to look right.”

Aang nodded, but he didn’t seem to be paying much attention. He was looking over her shoulder at something. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked, and she turned to see that a few couples had already taken to the dancefloor. Katara looked back at him and smiled.

“I’d love to.”

She offered her hand, and Aang took it, passing his staff to one of the Acolytes and sweeping her towards the floor. They’d been good dancers last year, but as Aang had come to fully master water-, earth- and firebending, his control over form had become flawless, and he was truly a sight to watch when he danced. A talented waterbender herself, Katara was nothing to sniff at either, but Aang could literally fly through the air, and he moved like a wraith.

When the song finished, it seemed every eye in the room was on them, just as before. Aang spun her into his embrace, wrapping one arm around her waist and swaying as the song came to a close, then they parted, bowed, and jumped when several onlookers burst into applause.

“Beautiful!” Ty Lee squealed, clapping delightedly. Then, she grabbed Suki by the arm and the pair of them, along with the other Kyoshi warriors—all wearing their formal armour, most wearing masks of some kind of terrifying foxcat creature—took to the centre of the dancefloor, drawing decorative fans and beginning some kind of war-dance similar to the one from the opening ceremony.

“Hey, you can’t just steal my girlfriend for a dance!” Sokka exclaimed behind a wolf mask similar to his father’s, but even under all the paint it was obvious he was laughing. He caught sight of Katara as she and Aang moved off the dancefloor to give the warriors room, and stared.

“Wow, you look beautiful, sis,” he murmured, looking at her with pride in his eyes. “She would be proud.”

“Yue?”

“Mom,” he corrected. “I mean, look at what you managed to _do_ here.” He gestured to the room in general. She raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t do it all by myself,” she said, “Your plans for the Fire Nation invasion alone—and Aang and Toph and Zuko—”

“None of us would be here if not for you,” he said firmly, “Your waterbending was what broke Aang out of the ice in the first place! And your… _heart_ was what kept us going, no matter what.”

She was glad for the paint, now, hiding her blush. Sokka rarely spoke so plainly about those sorts of feelings. Suki was very good for him, she decided.

“I see you and Aang are back to normal,” Sokka added. She gave a nod.

“Getting all our grievances out in the open like that… it helped,” she said. Sokka hummed.

“Bottling stuff up, that’s what kills a relationship. You need to be honest with each other, and speak your mind, even if that honesty isn’t always nice.” A smirk pulled at his mouth. “That’s why I never worry about you and I falling out for very long, or me and Toph—or you and Zuko, for that matter,” he added thoughtfully.

Katara blinked. “Me and _Zuko?_”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “You guys were always pretty snappy at one another—still are, really, even if you’re just being nice. You never keep anything secret from how you feel about him.”

“My ears were burning.” Toph appeared, wearing a mask that she might have actually made herself, because it appeared to be a single sheet of shining metal bent to perfectly fit the planes of her face without even needing a ribbon to hold it in place. It looked like a badgermole. “What’s this about me and Katara falling out?”

“Nothing about that,” Sokka said, “I was telling Katara that she and Zuko would never fall out for very long because they would shout at each other too much—get it all out in the air.”

Toph nodded sagely, as if Sokka had imparted some great wisdom upon them. “You’re too nice sometimes, Katara,” she agreed, “That’s what got you and Twinkletoes in such a huff earlier. Honesty is _always_ the best policy.”

Katara nodded. “Funny you two should be telling me this at a masquerade, where everyone’s pretending to be someone else,” she remarked, looking around the room.

Sokka gave a shrug. “Irony, sarcasm, I have many talents.”

“Is dancing one of them?” Toph asked. The music from the Kyoshi warriors’ dance was starting to die down. Sokka narrowed his eyes.

“Absolutely not. No way, nuh-uh, not a cha_aaaaance!_” he wailed as Toph shoved him in the back—hard—and he almost floored Suki. He managed to catch his balance just in time, grabbing her by the waist, somehow sweeping her sideways and landing in the perfect pose to begin a dance.

Suki had, of course, seen the whole thing, and smirked at him. “I lead,” she said, and off they went, Sokka red as a Fire Nation banner under his war paint. Toph cackled.

“Are _you_ going to dance?” Katara asked her, a smile curling her lip. Toph shook her head, mask glittering in the candlelight.

“Never much been one for dancing, sweetness,” she shrugged, “More of an Earth Rumbler.”

Katara gave a laugh, “Fair enough,” she admitted, and went off in search of something to eat from one of the tables.

She was examining a tray of what looked sea prunes that had been cooked in a Fire Nation manner when she felt someone clear their throat behind her. Turning, she saw a young man—and, judging by his red silk robes, he was a member of the Fire Council.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, “I was wondering if you would like to dance?”

She blinked. “Uh, thanks for the offer, but I’m actually taking a little rest right now,” she gave an apologetic smile, “But maybe later?”

“Oh, no.” The man shook his head, “Not with _me_. With the Fire Lord.”

Katara stared at him. “Um… can’t he ask me himself?” she asked, glancing out over the room, hoping to find that golden dragon mask and with it some answers.

“I believe he is currently dancing with a different suitor.”

At that, Katara did a double take. “S—_suitor?_”

“Oh, my apologies, miss,” the man exclaimed, “I didn’t realise you were already betrothed.”

“I’m not,” Katara said quickly, “I just… didn’t realise I would… _qualify_.”

The man huffed slightly. “I am of the opinion that a Fire Lady _not_ from the Fire Nation would be highly beneficial to our current political agenda,” he said, “This is a time of integration, miss. Who better to lead it than the Fire Lord who ended the war?”

She nodded. “That’s true,” she admitted.

He beamed. “I’m glad you agree. And, well, at events like this, it is customary for any eligible bachelors to dance with all prospective suitors.”

Katara frowned. “But this is the first Summit,” she said blankly. The man shook his head.

“You misunderstand me, miss,” he said, “There are many sorts of events where this would be expected. Weddings of other nobles, for example, or coronation balls.”

Katara cast her mind back to Zuko’s coronation, but she couldn’t remember him asking her for a dance. Maybe because he’d been with Mai. Maybe because she had just started her own relationship with Aang.

“_Are_ you a prospective suitor, miss?” the man asked, expression curious beneath his feathers. All the Fire Nation Councilmembers were wearing phoenix masks, and she had to wonder who had decided that, because Ozai had declared himself the tyrannical, almighty Phoenix King just before the final battle of the war. But, some appeared to be donning those feathers in exact defiance of that—such as this young man, actively prompting a very-obviously-non-Fire-Nation woman to dance with the Fire Lord in the hopes they might one day marry.

She was with Aang, of course, and she couldn’t see herself marrying Zuko anymore than she could see Toph marrying him. _But_, she _had_ never danced with him before, and it _was_ the last time she would be seeing him in a while.

“I would be honoured if the Fire Lord would consider me in such a fashion,” she replied politely—and evasively. The man raised his hand, and she delicately gave him her own. He held her hand lightly, as if he meant to kiss her fingers, and led her through the swarm of people, up to Zuko.

“My Lord,” he said, “This young beauty has requested a dance with you.”

Zuko recognised Katara and her costume at once, and his eyebrows raised; first surprised, then amused. “I would be honoured to grant her request,” he replied, and the young man handed Katara over. Once he was out of earshot, Zuko turned to her. “You wanted to dance with me?”

“I was told _every_ potential suitor would be expected to dance with the Fire Lord,” she said innocently, then chuckled, “I’ve never really seen you dance before, unless you count that firebending form. Is it cruel that I want to see if you’re any good?”

He smirked. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent dancer,” he replied, “I was raised in a royal court.”

“And we all go home tomorrow afternoon,” she added. A slightly melancholy overcame her. It had been so much fun these past two weeks, despite the immense workload and pressure. At some moments, it had almost felt as though the six of them had been on the run again, a fast group of friends with the wind in their hair and the world at their feet. “I won’t see you until the next Summit.”

Zuko blinked. “You know you’re always welcome to visit, Katara,” he said. She nodded.

“I know. But I’ll be at the Southern Tribe. Or the Air Temple,” she added, “Between rebuilding and teaching and… helping Aang, I just won’t have the time.”

He nodded. “I doubt I’d have the time to properly host you,” he admitted. He glanced out across the dancefloor. “In which case, my lady, would you care for this dance?”

She grinned at him. “I would, my Lord.”

They took to the floor as a slower song started up, one that required less spinning and flipping about than the dance she’d shared with Aang. Zuko held one of her hands lightly in his own, the other resting carefully on her waist, as she put her other hand on his shoulder. They moved in a simple enough pattern, and she quickly caught the gist.

“I didn’t realise tonight was going to be a matchmaking event,” she remarked. Zuko sighed.

“It was a condition of hosting the masquerade,” he said, “The Council refused to sanction it unless I used it to my political advantage. They want a Fire Lady, and soon. They want to know what kind of ruler I’m going to be.”

“Surely they already know that,” she frowned, “How does getting married prove your character more than your actions?”

“Well, you saw Alao, he’s pushing for me to marry a girl from the other Nations,” Zuko explained as he raised their joined hands and motioned for her to spin gracefully. When she settled back against him, he continued, “Others are bringing their daughters to the palace, hoping to get them positions as ladies in waiting or something similar, so I’ll have to interact with them and… I don’t know, fall in love with them, I suppose.”

“Isn’t that how you met Mai?” Katara asked, “Her father’s an important official.”

“Similar to that, yes,” he agreed, “She wasn’t a servant, though, she came to the palace because my father wanted Azula to have more appropriate company than me.”

“Once again, Ozai’s compassion shines through,” Katara said dryly, and more casually than she felt. Zuko chuckled. “Where is she now, anyway? Mai? She’s not in the capital.”

“She’s on Kyoshi, last I heard,” he replied, “She made friends with the warriors, like Ty Lee, and I guess they liked her knives.” He paused. “I think some of the Council were hoping she’d return with the delegation, that we’d pick up where we left off…”

“If I had to guess, I bet that’s the reason she didn’t come,” Katara said, “You two need some space.”

“We do, but it would be nice to have a friend in the palace again,” he murmured. Katara’s mind cast back to the start of the week, where a desperate and sleep-deprived Zuko had—albeit in a far more nervous manner—expressed the same desire. Quite simply, he was _lonely_.

“Is that why you’re letting the Council make you dance with all us _eligible suitors?_” she asked him, “In the hopes you’ll find a friend?”

“Well, technically, I _am_ dancing with a friend,” he smirked and she rolled her eyes at him. “That mask looks beautiful, by the way. Has Yue seen it?”

“She’s seen me work on it all week, so probably.”

He nodded. “Masks suit you.”

Katara raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to tell me I should cover my face or something?”

Worried he’d genuinely offended her, Zuko scrambled to apologise. “No, _no!_ Of course not—I just meant—the mask is pretty. Like you. And it goes well with your dress—”

“Calm down, Zuko, I’m only teasing,” she said calmly. “Thank you. And I like your mask, too. Very fierce.”

“My _point_,” he told her, in a less flustered tone, “Was that… would you care to don a different mask later on? Since you’re going back to the Southern Tribe tomorrow?”

Katara thought about this for a moment. “I’m going back to the Southern Air Temple, actually,” she muttered, “But… yes. I think I’d like that very much.” She grinned at him conspiratorially. “I think we’ve earned it, after all these politics.”

Zuko nodded. “My sentiments exactly, Master Katara. Thank you for the dance,” he added, as they heard the closing bars of the song. Zuko bowed to her, brushing his lips over her fingers before dropping her hand. Katara curtsied, then walked off the dancefloor as another Councilmember approached with a different girl—this one very clearly from the Fire Nation—in hand, ready to dance.

“Did you find it dreadfully boring?” came a voice, and Katara turned to see a young woman about her age—maybe a little older, but it was hard to tell under the white enamel half-mask—standing beside her.

“Sorry?” she asked, not following.

“_Him_.” The woman jerked her head towards Zuko, making her elaborate hair ornaments shake. “I did. He’s not exactly a conversationalist.”

Katara shrugged, a little apprehensive. “He was fine to me,” she said, “Maybe he’s just quiet.”

“Hmph.” The woman didn’t seem convinced, and took a terse sip from her wine glass. Katara had to wonder if that was her first. “If this were a ball in the Earth Kingdom, if he were an Earth Kingdom prince, he would’ve already picked a few girls to woo in earnest, not just be standing in the middle of the floor like a wooden statue.” She cocked her head, and Katara saw an unpleasant twist to the woman’s lips, painted blood red on a mask of bright white face paint. “He needs the extra edge, anyway.”

Now Katara frowned, beginning to decide she really didn’t like this woman. “Extra edge?”

The woman stared at her. “My dear girl, have you _seen_ his face? It looks like someone tried to burn it off!”

“Someone _did_,” she said blankly, an edge on her words. “And what does that matter, anyway? He’s a perfectly nice young man. Some might—” Her voice caught for a moment. “—some might consider him very charming and—and kind.”

The woman sighed. “_Charming_ and _kind_ are all well and good,” she said, “But what use is charm when he looks like _that?_ Probably the whole reason he suggested this be a masquerade—no one would dare dance with him if his face was bare, Fire Lord or not. In fact, that’s probably _more_ reason he needs to be proactive. With a family like _that_, it’s only a matter of time—”

Suddenly, as if it had a mind of its own, the wine in the woman’s glass sloshed over the side, splattering deep crimson onto her pale yellow and green dress.

The woman shrieked as though burned, dropping the glass and setting several pairs of eyes on her. Gaping, horror-struck, down at her ruined dress, the woman’s gaze snapped up to Katara, eyes narrowing to furious slits behind the mask. “You little_—_!” she hissed, “_You_ did this!”

“I resent such an accusation,” Katara said indignantly—but not _too_ indignantly. A lady would do well not protest _too_ much. “Excuse me,” she then called, drawing only _more_ attention, “I think this woman needs some help. Are there any attendants free?”

As if summoned by her words, three servants appeared out of the crowd, politely pushing past and leading the woman away, one taking the remnants of her wine, two guiding her by the arms. She batted those two away. “I’m not _drunk!_” she snapped, “That little _witch_ did it!”

“I’ll thank you not to call my guests such cruel names, Lady Satriva,” came Zuko’s neutral but firm voice. He addressed the attendants, “Please help the Lady Satriva back to her quarters, so that she might change—or perhaps go to bed. She seems to have overexerted herself a little. Understandable, given the pressures of such political events. See to it that she’s well cared for.”

“Of course, my Lord,” murmured the servants, leading the woman—apparently Lady Satriva—towards the guest wing of the palace. She went, but she was fuming and half-muttering insults as she walked. Those insults fell mostly on deaf ears, but Katara continued to seethe under her demeanour of a slightly lost young girl who’d only tried to help an irrational drunk woman.

Zuko approached Katara, resting a gentle hand on her arm. “Are you alright?” he asked. Katara nodded. “Good. It’s strange, though.”

“Strange?” she echoed, “Strange how?”

“Well, Lady Satriva didn’t seem to be swinging her hands around, or stumbling,” he said, “It’s almost as if her wine spilled out of its glass all by itself.” She could see his eyes through the eye holes of his mask, saw them glitter wryly.

“Almost,” Katara agreed, not bothering to fight the smile pulling at her lips.

“I’m just glad you weren’t splashed, too,” Zuko said, “You worked hard on your costume.”

* * *

The rest of the closing banquet went off without a hitch; the thank-you speeches were heard, applauded, and everyone was sent off to bed with the confident sense that all was indeed well. The Four Nations were all set to enjoy a second year of peaceful diplomacy. Katara returned to her room with a sense of elation, mingled with a dark pride at what she’d done to Lady Satriva. But, as she entered the room, a sense of melancholy overcame her.

She was going away tomorrow, and that meant she would have to say goodbye.

Yes, the Fire Nation was overly hot, and the customs were stuffy, but this was the first time in a year she’d had all her friends together in one place. It was the first time in a year she’d felt like she was really _doing_ something to help the Four Nations’ peace, and it was the first time in a year she’d donned the guise of a spirit to bring justice to those who sought to evade punishment. Even tonight had been an echo of that; dressed as the spirit of the moon, punishing an arrogant woman who sought to blame her friend for things beyond his control.

And, of course, the room itself—full of Southern Water Tribe colours and ancestry; that fabulous tapestry alone—she would miss that dearly, too.

She sighed, leaning against the doorframe of her room, then went inside and closed the door behind her. It was going to be a long year.

* * *

The sky was roiling with a summer storm, stars and moon blotted out by dark clouds, the only light being the red lanterns of the city and the occasional flash of lightning. Rain lashed at them in sheets, and she was invigorated by it, spreading her arms wide and letting the droplets soak through her clothes, into her skin—into her very bones.

She didn’t fear slipping as they ran through the streets under cover of darkness and a fog she conjured from the rain hitting the warm ground.

No one had evaded them on this night. Few people were out in such a storm, but fewer had good intentions in doing so. They stood no chance against her rain, against his swords, and it felt so good—almost as good as the rain on her skin—to know justice was prevailing.

“Guards,” he muttered to her, laying a hand on her shoulder, and they darted down an alleyway. It was smaller than he’d expected, vision distorted by the rain, and there were only a few inches of space between them. As the guards approach, he took her by the shoulders and turned so his back—black hair and black clothes—faced outwards. He was larger than her, and as the soldiers passed they suspected nothing.

“I’m going to miss this,” she confessed, pushing up her mask to feel the rain on her skin.

“The mask, or the politics?” he asked, pushing his own mask up. Raindrops pattered onto the enamel, dripping along the thick ridges of the grins, running off the edges and settling in their hair, their clothes.

She shrugged. “Both. Like you said, masks allow us to be our true selves, absent of any judgement, of whatever restrictions our… ‘real’ lives hold.” He had called the mask power, for her. And at the Summit, her position as a friend to the Fire Lord and the daughter of the Southern Chief had offered similar benefits. “Is that why you do it?”

He shook his head. “The first time I put it on… it was a way to defy my father. My mother’s mask, and my mother’s temperament—doing good and helping people, not ruling and terrifying them.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “Not sacrificing lives like they mean nothing.” He paused. “Responsibility, for you. Freedom, for me.”

She thought about this a moment. “I wouldn’t mind some freedom of my own,” she told him. He stared at her owlishly, and when a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, he was perfectly illuminated for one brief instant, his eyes wide and shining as if polished by the rain.

“How aren’t you free?” he asked softly, “You’re as free as anyone can get.”

She frowned. “You really believe that?” _Was_ she free? Or had she already determined the course of her life, what her remaining years would hold? And even if she hadn’t, what would be the price to break away from this path she was setting herself on? Heartbreak? Worse?

He nodded sombrely. “I do. You’ve never been the kind to let anyone boss you around. You fought a master bender for the right to learn waterbending, even though you’re a girl. You defied the Avatar to help a fishing village who couldn’t help themselves. You…” He hesitated, dropping her gaze. “You gave a misguided boy a chance when no one else would, even though he ended up throwing it back in your face.”

His hands were still gripping her shoulders, she realised. He was so warm to the touch, always, that even now she could feel the heat of fingers through her sodden clothes.

“Do you ever regret it?” he asked quietly. “Be honest.”

She stared at him. “Why would I regret it?” she asked, “Look at where we’re standing right now. It… it might’ve taken you a while to… to see the right path, to know to take it, but… I forgave you a year ago.” She shook her head. “I would never regret the actions that lead me to making one of my dearest friends—that lead me to someone who would’ve _died_ for me.” She pressed her hand over his heart again, and it was almost as if he wore no clothes at all for how acutely she could feel the ridges of mottled flesh.

“Even after…?” he trailed off, and he looked like he was appalled by the memories.

She swallowed. Opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She had no idea what to say. Had she forgiven him? Was there even anything that needed forgiving? She still didn’t know how she’d felt about that.

“You’re a dear friend,” she said eventually, the only thing she was sure of, and he had asked her to be honest.

Her gaze snapped to his mouth when he swallowed and licked his lips in preparation to say something. With their masks pushed up, their faces were as wet as the rest of them, and raindrops clung to his eyelashes, to the end of his nose, ran along his lips. She licked her own lips, tasting rainwater as well as the smoke and spice that permeated the flavour of everything here, even the air.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, “Bend Lady Satriva’s wine onto her dress?”

She flushed, but not because of the humidity. “She insulted you,” she said, honestly, “She said no one would think anything of you because of…” She trailed off.

“Because of my scar,” he said lowly. She nodded.

“And Ozai.” She felt him stiffen against him at the mention of his father. “She said you would be like him because you’re his son—but you’re not,” she rushed to add, “I’m being as honest as I can be when I swear to you that your legacy won’t be his—it won’t, I won’t let you—”

“It’s okay,” he said calmly. “The other day… you caught me at a weak moment.”

“Weak?” she echoed, “Is it weak to ask help from your friends?”

“Not that I asked for help. Just… how.” He was red-faced—the blush more apparent on his pale skin. She remembered him practically sobbing against her, terrified that blood would out.

“Vulnerability isn’t weakness,” she swore to him, “Believe me.”

“I do,” he replied.

His eyes were intense, a cage of fire that trapped her. She couldn’t look away—but more than that, she didn’t _want_ to. His lips parted again, but he didn’t speak. She watched him for a long moment, and he watched her. So many unsaid words, so little time. She left in the morning, and it was unlikely they would see each other before the next Summit.

“Yes,” she breathed. She wasn’t confirming a statement. She was answering that unspoken question, that which captivated her in the slightest movement of his lips, the ghost of his asking it—and not even that. Were they standing so close together that they didn’t even need to speak, that their minds were one in that same, strange way as when they fought beside one another, so perfectly in sync even as they were polar opposites? His unspoken question, it was a wretched thing, but so was she, in this moment. If nothing stopped her. And there was nothing _to_ stop her.

‘Yes’ she said, because he had asked her to be honest.


	9. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying one last night of freedom and power, respectively, Zuko and Katara are faced with something they would both rather not confront. In the coming year, the distance they bridged during the war seems to grow larger than ever, leaving both unsure of where they stand.

Was he leaning down, or was she tilting her head up? Did it matter? They were moving closer. Three inches. Two inches. One inch. Now a mere whisper away, he could feel her warm breath on his lips.

He should stop this. He should really be stopping this. But he wasn’t—and more to the point, neither was she.

“Zuko…” she whispered, and he felt the word rather than heard it. All the same, it was as if she’d screamed it at him. He stopped, blinked, and so did she.

“I… we should be getting back,” he said blankly. “I know you’re used to the cold, but, uh, it’s still probably not a good idea to go running around soaking wet.”

“You’re probably right,” she muttered, pulling down her mask over her face, because for some reason having a physical barrier between herself and Zuko felt… necessary. Not quite ‘good’ or ‘safe’, but necessary.

As they headed back towards the palace, mindful of each other’s presence in a very different way to before, conversation was infrequent and strictly business.

“So, Akane will be going to Ba Sing Se?” she asked lightly. He nodded.

“Uncle offered to be the ambassador, but I thought it would be more appropriate if it was a Councilmember. And anyway, he loves his tea shop. I don’t want to pull it away from him again.”

“Well, Hiresh seems nice. And rational.”

“Rational would be ideal,” he agreed, “It’s not going to be easy, figuring out the colonies. Some people want to leave them as they are, others see them as a persistent military presence.” She couldn’t see his face, but his posture hardened, muscles tensing. “I don’t want anyone to be able to make the excuse that we’re holding onto the war.”

“No one will, believe—” The last two words choked her, and she fell silent. Zuko turned to her, unreadable behind the mask and the darkness. Her face burned. “No one will,” she said carefully.

Suddenly, talking about things like that felt awkward. She had seen an unexpectedly vulnerable side to him, and whatever had just happened—_what_ had just happened?—felt as though it had been perverted. A sweet moment between friends complicated by—

_Complicated by **what?**_

By nothing, she decided. They were friends, both run ragged from the stresses of the Summit and the pressures of a throne and an Avatar, respectively.

Zuko was ‘a dear friend’, of that much she was sure. But if asked to explain in more detail… she didn’t know. Or maybe she didn’t _want_ to know.

For some reason, she desperately wanted to talk to Aang, and that feeling of guilt—the one that had plagued her on Ember Island, when Aang had wanted to apologise only to find her busy with Zuko—had returned with a vengeance. But about what, she couldn’t say.

All too quickly—and yet at the same time, not quickly enough—they were back at the palace, clambering through the window into Zuko’s quarters. Katara removed her mask and changed back into her normal clothes in the Fire Lady’s chambers, and then she was standing in the middle of Zuko’s room, and they were looking at each other, for the first time ever at a complete loss of what to say.

They had never been awkwardly silent before. Angrily silent, contentedly silent, yes. But never _awkwardly_. They always had something to say—be it a sharp snap or a snide comment or a gentle encouragement or an astute suggestion. Silence did not suit them.

_Bad things happen when you’re silent_, she thought, though ‘bad’ sounded wrong. ‘Bad’ sounded like she didn’t like them—when the problem was precisely the opposite.

“I… I’m going to miss you,” she said, looking at him. She could probably have reached out with her arm and touched him, but the distance was immeasurable, so vast that nothing and no one could have crossed it. Something, she couldn’t even say what, had come between them; something invisible and indescribably but nonetheless _there_, and she had no idea how to combat it. This was no enemy to fight, no obstacle to overcome. It was simply… _there_. Even as she spoke, her words sounded hollow and insincere.

“I’ll miss you, too,” he replied, and she couldn’t hear anything in his voice—no hints as to his true feelings underneath.

She wanted to step forwards and hug him, because they were friends and they’d hugged before and she _would_ miss him, but how to go about crossing such an enormous distance? She didn’t know.

So she nodded, flashed a smile, and headed out.

Almost immediately outside the door, she ran into Ty Lee.

“Katara!” she said brightly, “Is Zuko in there? I have a security report for him.”

Katara’s eyes widened, something cold and leaden dropping into her stomach. “Spirits, is everything—”

“It’s fine,” Ty Lee cut across calmly, “All good. He just wanted a report at the end of the Summit, is all.” Another dazzling smile. “Are you headed to bed?”

Katara nodded. “We were just… finishing up some business about the colonies,” she lied. Ty Lee hummed appreciatively.

“One of my sisters lives there,” she said, “It’s gonna be a doozy, that’s for sure!”

Katara nodded again, suddenly wishing for nothing more than to get out of this conversation. Luckily, Ty Lee seems intent to give her report, and let her go with minimal wheedling. Knocking on the door to the Fire Nation’s chambers, Ty Lee came face to face with a Zuko in oddly informal clothing.

“What are you wearing?” she said, stepping into the room without asking, because even though she had been raised in the Fire Nation and he was the Fire Lord, she’d known him since she was four and knew his temper was all bark and no bite. Zuko shrugged, sullen.

“It was too stuffy with those formal robes,” he said, “And the Summit’s over, anyway.”

“Oookaaaay,” Ty Lee said slowly, looking him up and down doubtfully, but she’d never been one to pry into business that clearly wasn’t hers. “Anyway, I’m here to report that everything seems to be fine. There weren’t any attempts on your life this week, but I think that’s because people didn’t want to risk an outbreak of war by making a mistake and stabbing the wrong royal or something.”

“How generous,” Zuko muttered, “Anything else?”

“The Blue Spirit is reported to have returned,” she answered, either not noticing or not reacting to how Zuko stiffened slightly when she said that. He was pouring himself some water, and she jug shook slightly, his knuckles white on the handle. “But the new reports are saying he has a companion—female, and she _talks_.”

“Who giving these reports?” he asked through gritted teeth, taking a terse sip of water.

“Just people,” Ty Lee shrugged, jumping up onto a desk and swinging her legs idly. “One of the doctors who you told the Council to keep an eye on—which they didn’t, of course—and one of my sisters.”

Zuko choked.

For about a solid minute, the only sound in the room was of him violently coughing and spluttering and drinking more water, until he finally managed a strangled, “What?”

“One of my sisters, Zhu Ji,” Ty Lee answered, unconcerned by Zuko’s coughing.

He looked at her through streaming eyes. “What did she do to incur the wrath of the Blue Spirit? Spirit_s_?” he asked her.

Ty Lee shook her head. “Nothing—they rescued her from some unseemly boys who were trying to rob her. But she said one of them was definitely female. And appeared to be a waterbender.”

Zuko forced his expression to one of neutrality. “I thought the only spirits who could waterbend were Tui and La?”

Ty Lee blinked at him. “You think Princess Yue came down from the moon to… beat up thieves and aristocrats?”

Zuko swallowed. “Maybe… the moon got boring,” he said, “And it was the Summit—the first Summit. What better time?”

“Hm…” Ty Lee didn’t sound overly convinced. “Well, whoever it was, we’ve increased security. If the Blue Spirit came after the likes of Zhao, he’ll probably leave you alone—you _helped_ the Avatar, after all.”

Zuko gave a stiff nod. “Is there anything else to report?”

“Mai says hey,” she answered, hopping down from the desk and heading for the door. At the last moment, she turned, put her hands in the flame formation, and gave a short bow. “Fire Lord.”

He inclined his head slightly. “Warrior.”

And that was that.

* * *

The next morning, Katara climbed atop Appa along with Aang, Sokka and Suki, bade goodbye to her father and Toph and Ty Lee, and avoided eye-contact with Zuko as he did the same, offering a small smile and nothing more. She kept that smile plastered on her face until Appa had dropped off Sokka and Suki on Kyoshi, then her face fell and she sighed.

“Katara?” Aang asked, turning around on Appa’s head to face her. “What’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth, the _nothing, Aang, I’m fine_ already halfway to her lips, then shook her head. “I’m tired,” she said honestly, “These past couple weeks… it was a lot to do.”

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to rest back at the Temple,” he told her, “And once we’ve finished the renovations, we can spend the rest of the year at the Southern Water Tribe—how does that sound?”

She smiled at him, tired but genuine. “I like the sound of that.”

* * *

The next few months passed at a funereal pace. Spurred on by the success of the Summit, Aang was eager to finish the reconstruction of the Southern Air Temple in preparation for the next one. That meant Katara returned to her role as ‘mother’ and ‘faithful companion’ at the Temple until Aang deemed the work complete enough that they could go back to the Southern Tribe.

She had been hoping they could return for the winter and the new year, but no such luck was to be had, she realised, as work wasn’t near enough finished, and Aang was reluctant about spending the coldest months of the year in the coldest parts of the world.

“Appa doesn’t like the cold,” he explained, and Katara could hardly begrudge him that—the poor thing had spent the better part of a century encased in a bauble of ice. Aang didn’t like the cold much, either, after that.

So, she sent an apologetic letter via Hawky to explain to her brother, father, and basically-sister-in-law why they would not be joining them for the new year’s celebrations.

Toph was at the Temple, though, fulfilling her promise to help with the finer details of the reconstruction. It was nice to have a friend there, Katara thought, and it only increased her excitement for the next Summit—even if it was still several months away. The Acolytes were Aang’s people—somewhat literally—and she got the feeling they looked down on her a little because she wasn’t as passionate about airbending culture as them. They were the handful of Air Nomad descendants whose ancestors hadn’t been airbenders, had been able to escape the genocide and live peaceful, unassuming lives in the other Nations—primarily the Earth Kingdom. Once the Avatar had returned and announced his desire to revive the Air Nomads, their families had revealed their ancestry and they had flocked to the Southern Temple in droves, eager to be part of this major historical turning point.

And as Katara’s discontent at being in the Air Temple had become more pronounced, so had their dislike of her. In fact, she had discovered only a few weeks ago that it had been one of the Acolytes who had spied her going into Zuko’s chambers to work on the colony reformations and informed Aang. She didn’t know which one, though, and was hoping for a chance to impart to them that they would do well to _butt the hell out_ of other peoples’ business.

Regardless, she was looking forward to the coming of spring, and with it, the chance to spend a few months at the South Pole before the next Summit. It wasn’t the work she yearned to do, exactly, but it was infinitely more enjoyable and fulfilling than what she did at the Air Temple.

If nothing else, she was respected in the Water Tribe. The new Air Nomads—Aang aside—seemed to ‘tolerate’ her more than anything.

So, it was little more than torture for those days, weeks, months, to crawl by, somehow blurring together but existing in excruciating detail at the same time. When she spied the first windrose blooming on one of the Southern Temple’s craggy outcrops, she almost screamed with delight.

As it stood, she rushed to find Aang.

“I saw a windrose,” she told him excitedly, “If they’re blooming, it’s definitely warm enough to travel to the South Pole!”

Aang told her he still had work that needed finishing at the Temple, that they could go in a month’s time, and suddenly all her old grievances burst forth like a dam breaking.

Three days later, a boat from the Southern Tribe arrived at the Temple’s port, and she was sailing home.

Sokka was pleased to see her, as were Suki and Hakoda, but were confsed as to why she hadn’t travelled by Appa, arrived with Aang.

“He has some work that needs finishing,” she said enigmatically, “I decided to come ahead on my own.”

She didn’t say out loud that she thought she might scream if she had to spend another week there after all Aang’s promises that they would come to the South Pole _oh, when the construction’s done. _

_Oh, it’s not really done yet. _

_Well… it’s a little cold now, don’t you think? _

_We’ll go when it’s warmer._

_It’s not really warm enough yet. _

_I still have things that need doing, we can go later._

_He_ had things to do, but _they_ had had to stay? She was _done_ trying to make excuses for him—he simply didn’t care about her. Not like she cared about him. He only ever factored her emotions into anything when she was so obviously miserable he’d have to be blind, deaf and dead not to notice.

And yes, it was partly her fault—she still struggled to confront him directly when she was upset. But surely he should’ve learned by now what made her upset? It was the same thing every time. And he either didn’t want to learn or was so oblivious that he couldn’t see the pattern.

He was fifteen now, the same age Sokka had been when they’d first found each other in the ice. That didn’t seem right. Even then, Sokka had seemed so much older and more capable than Aang was now. Maybe it was hindsight, maybe it was because Sokka was her big brother, and he’d always seemed somehow strong and capable (if annoying) in her mind’s eye.

And she was nearing seventeen—that sounded so old, so mature. Zuko had been seventeen when he had assumed the throne. It was the age when one truly began to enter adulthood, to make one’s mark in the world.

Though, it could be argued she’d already made her mark, as a war hero, as the waterbender who had defeated the Mad Princess, who had saved the Fire Lord’s life.

As the Avatar’s faithful companion.

Her mouth twisted—she was well and truly sick of hearing that phrase now, of being defined not by her own achievements but by Aang’s. Granted, they were as numerous as they were impressive, but she had had a life before he had come along and she had done things without his help and spirits forbid they left one another’s lives but she would continue to have a life then, too.

And for that, it was a comfort to be back in her home, where people knew her for _her_, where she was ‘Sifu Katara’ and not ‘the Avatar’s girl’. She hadn’t really realised how much she missed it until she’d arrived on the boat, leapt into her father’s arms with a grin, returned Hawky to Sokka, and hugged Gran-Gran.

She also hadn’t realised how much she liked her independence and peace, and when, a month later, Appa’s silhouette appeared on the horizon, she was confused as to why she felt both pleased to see Aang, and a little apprehensive.

It wasn’t because she was still mad at him—she wasn’t, she’d had a full month to cool down. Why did she associate it with the upcoming Summit? Was she nervous about it going as well as the first?

She decided not to think about it, and instead focus on the matter at hand. Zuko had sent her a letter, asking if she would be willing to look over the next stage of the colony reformation plans that he and Kuei, along with Akane and Hiresh, had drawn up. He would be arriving a few days early at the Southern Temple, and she had yet to pen a reply.

Not that she was unsure of her answer—she absolutely wanted to help—but she was unsure how to phrase it. She and Zuko didn’t really write to each other, not like she and Sokka did, and they hadn’t spoken since…

…since the last night of the Summit.

She still wasn’t fully sure what had happened, what might have happened. It held such a strange place in her mind, somehow both hazy and vague, but at the same time so vividly detailed. It was uncomfortable to think about and yet delightful and thrilling.

And holding the brush in her hand, hovering above the page as she struggled to reply was no easier now than it had been a month ago.

She knew Zuko would ask when he arrived—why she hadn’t replied, if she’d gotten the letter. She was considering lying—saying she’d been so busy she simply hadn’t had the opportunity, but she and Zuko had always been honest with each other. Maybe not for the best, maybe not for the sake of friendship and pleasantry, but they had never lied to one another.

_I’ll save you from the pirates_ he’d said, and he had.

_You could be free of your mark_ she’d said, and she’d meant it.

Those dreaded words echoed in her head; _you’re a dear friend_. That had been the truth, the most truth she’d been willing to give. Because any more, and things would have been even more complicated than they were already.

‘Things’ itself was so imprecise. What was this between them, and was it even there, or simply a figment of her imagination? She couldn’t help but feel like it had started in the caverns under Ba Sing Se, the first time they had actually spoken without vitriol and misconceptions.

“Are things always like this between you and Aang or are you just fighting again because the Summit’s coming up?” asked Sokka on one of the warmer afternoons, but of course it was still plenty cold enough, and they were swaddled in parkas.

“It’s… complicated,” she said vaguely, realising only then that it was the same word she was using to describe her friendship with Zuko, even though those two relationships and two boys (men?) were nothing alike.

Well, not _nothing_ alike. Both were gentle and kind. Both loved animals. Both strove to see the best in people. Both were amongst the people she loved most in the world.

Which was what made things so difficult to untangle, to make sense of.

“I want things to go smoothly,” she then added, not just meaning the Summit.

Sokka nodded. “We all do,” he agreed, “But that’s not what I’m worried about. Is everything okay? With you and Aang?”

“It’s fine, Sokka,” she half-snapped, rapidly growing uncomfortable and irritated. “I’m just… it’s… it’s complicated. And not your business.”

“Alright, alright.” Sokka raised gloved hands in a self-defensive manner, as if physically warding her off. “I was only asking. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me.”

Katara nodded. “Thanks, Sokka,” she said, and she meant it, because being able to talk to _him_ wasn’t the problem; that had never been the problem.

* * *

_Dear Katara,_

_I know we don’t write to each other much—or, ever—but I thought it might be worth it since your help was so invaluable at the Summit last year. I hope you’re well, and that you’re enjoying the Southern Tribe. Aang says you two hadn’t had a chance to visit until after winter because of the temple renovations. Please give Hakoda my best._

_Enclosed is a set of teas Uncle has been working on that he asked me to pass along to you. I think he wants to create sets for all the Four Nations, and this one is inspired by the Water Tribe. I believe the purplish one is sea prune flavoured. He would appreciate feedback, I think._

_If you have the time, I would love to see you in the Fire Nation again. Your help with the colony reformations, and everything else besides, was instrumental to how smoothly things are running right now._

_Let me know,_

_—Zuko_

_P.S. Ty Lee’s little sister, Zhu Ji, says hello._

* * *

_Dear Katara,_

_Aang tells me you’re both back in the South Pole now, I hope you’re enjoying your teaching. You seemed to hold a real passion for it when you told me about it last year._

_Thank you for your gift, it’s very comfortable. I’m not sure if blue and silver are my colours, but I hope to have cause to use it someday. I would’ve sent you something for your birthday, but I didn’t know it had passed until Aang mentioned it in one of his letters._

_Did you get my last letter? You didn’t reply. I’ve asked Aang if the Temple will be able to host me a few days before the Summit starts so I can ask you both—mainly you—to look over the next stage of the colony plans I’ve prepared for Kuei. Akane and Hiresh have been great helps, but a neutral party is always appreciated._

_I look forward to seeing you at the Summit._

_—Zuko_

* * *

_Dear Katara,_

_Are you avoiding me? There’s no way all of these letters are getting lost._

_If there’s something wrong, you know you can always talk to me. I’ll be coming to the Southern Temple about a week from now. Could we speak then?_

_—Zuko_

_P.S. how cold does the Southern Temple get? Should I bring my new parka?_

* * *

Katara looked at Zuko’s most recent letter, staring so long her eyes began to sting from not blinking. Her hand twitched for the brush and paper, but didn’t reach. Expression blank and unreadable, she folded it neatly and put it into a small chest with the others.

A voice outside brought her attention back to the present. “Katara?” that was Aang. “We need to get going if we want to be the first ones at the Air Temple!”

“I’m coming, Aang,” she said, shoving the last few things into her bag. She was looking forward to the Summit, genuinely. It had once more been the better part of a year since she’d seen everyone. When Toph had finally been free to help with the Air Temple, she had returned to the Southern Tribe. Aang being okay with her going off on her own for a few weeks had been a big step for them, and she felt much more confident than she had this time last year about what was happening.

_Much_ more confident.

Really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than the others, but it was just not flowing, it took me ages to write and every word was a slog. Next one is more exciting, I promise.


	10. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the second annual Summit of the Four Nations draws near, Zuko is reminded of a memory that both he and Katara wish they could forget.

Aang and Katara, along with Sokka and Suki (whom they’d picked up on their way from the South Pole) arrived at the Southern Air Temple precisely three days before the start of the Summit to ensure plenty of time for final preparations. Rooms needed to be prepared, food delivered, furniture moved in for the large meeting hall.

Two days before the Summit, Zuko arrived ahead of his Fire Nation delegation—much to the chagrin of said delegation. They had insisted it was a huge security risk, but Zuko had patiently pointed out that only people at the Air Temple currently were the people who’d helped win the war that had put him on the throne. Also, they weren’t in a position to boss him around, so they would just have to deal with it.

“It’s so good to see you all!” squealed Ty Lee as she bounded into the Air Temple, the sole member of Zuko’s security team he’d permitted to accompany him. She bowed to Suki before pulling her into a fierce hug, and as she made the rounds, Zuko greeted them in a more muted, but no less sincere, manner.

“Are you alright, Katara?” Ty Lee asked as she approached, “Your aura looks off.”

Katara shrugged. “Just a bit stressed, I think,” she lied, “I want this to go smoothly—like last year.”

“Oh, it will,” Ty Lee assured her breezily. “A lot of the civil unrest in the Fire Nation has died down. The people are on Zuko’s side after he cracked down on corruption.” She eyed Katara with a gaze far more knowing and astute than one would normally expect from such a bubbly young woman. “But there seems to be more to it,” she added, before turning to Toph and squeezing her delightedly.

Katara’s greeting to Zuko was as she’d expected it would be.

“Did you get my letters?” he asked her as they embraced—lightly, not as tight as they would normally, she thought, knowing that was as much her fault as his.

“I did,” she confessed, “I just…” She faltered. She just what? Hadn’t had the time? Hadn’t been able to send them? What?

“I… never knew how to answer.”

Honesty, she reasoned, had always been their way. But she saw the flicker in Zuko’s eyes as he wondered just what that meant. “But,” she continued, “I’d be happy to look over the colony reformations if you want.”

His smile reached his eyes this time. “That would be great.”

* * *

Aang showed Zuko to his room, a high-ceilinged stone cavern with a single red banner depicting the Fire Nation sigil hung over the bed. It was very plain—unacceptably so, by the Fire Council’s standards, Zuko reckoned—but the bed looked comfortable and Aang assured him the walls kept in heat a lot better than one might expect—and he was a firebender, anyway. It was as good a place to sleep as any.

“Some of those dignitaries were a bit stuffy,” Aang confessed, frowning, “They might not like the simple Air Nomad lifestyle like I do.”

“You’re the Avatar, Aang,” Zuko said calmly, “They wouldn’t dare complain to your face. And besides, the Summit is about furthering harmony, not two weeks of goofing off.”

Aang raised an eyebrow. “Should I not have included the masquerade at the end, then?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” Zuko assured him, a small smile on his lips, “The masquerade is a tradition as old as the Summit itself.”

Aang laughed. “Very true, Sifu Hotman!” he announced, and ducked out of the room before Zuko could splutter _stop calling me that!_

He settled for shaking his head ruefully and looking around the room once more, before throwing his bag unceremoniously onto the bed, and changing into his civilian clothing. Without the dignitaries to nettle him about appearances, he was going to indulge in the few days of peace he had procured for himself. The weight of the crown was heavy on his young shoulders, and it was uncomfortable in his hair, too. Maybe because it was so short, by Fire Nation standards, but he’d come to like the length—it reminded him of the journey he’d come on since cutting it all off.

Stepping out into the open hallways of the Temple—apparently the hallways had never had a roof, that wasn’t an error in reconstruction—he cast his gaze around for some idea of where to go, and not knowing, picked a direction at random. As it happened, he soon came across a large hall that was empty save for Katara, who was bending an elegant stream of water from a clay pot.

“Hello,” he said neutrally. Katara jumped, the water splashing to the ground. With a frown, she waved a hand and sent it all neatly back into the pot.

“Hello.” She echoed his careful tone. This, he thought, was worse than when she’d hated him. At least he’d known how she’d felt, then.

“I was… wondering if we could look over the plans,” he told her, not fully lying, but not telling the truth either. He hadn’t set out to find her, and not for that reason, anyway.

Katara raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You just got here.”

He shrugged. “Time is of the essence. Unless you don’t want to.”

“No,” she said quickly—quickly enough to catch his notice, to send a flare of happiness through him, a flare that confused him—“No, I’m happy to do that now if you are.”

She followed him to his room and they sat on one of the mats Aang had placed on the floor. Had it always been this awkward between them, he wondered? No, no it hadn’t. He remembered how fluidly they’d moved together, in combat, as the Spirits. What had happened at the end of the last Summit had driven a wedge between them—and such was the nature of it that they weren’t exactly sure they wanted to get rid of it.

“How’s Aang been?” he asked lightly, “He was sending me a lot of letters.”

“He’s… well,” she replied nebulously, “He’s really pleased to have the Temple restored.”

“So you’ll be spending more time at the Southern Water Tribe now, then? You must be pleased.”

Katara’s mouth twisted, and she didn’t look up from the paper she was skimming. “Actually, Aang’s turned his sights to the Western Temple, and he wants me to come with him again. Granted, the Tribe’s mostly restored, too, but…”

“It’s your home,” Zuko said softly, so softly she looked up at him, eyes wide and so very blue. He’d forgotten how blue they were.

“Yes,” she murmured, then suddenly broke their gaze to look down at the paper again. “These look good,” she then said, louder and deliberately. He watched her evenly, knowing what she was doing, knowing why, knowing it was right, and disliking it all the same.

When had he become like that? When had he become one of those men who gazed after a woman who was with another? Who had made clear she had not chosen him?

_Except… she never said she didn’t choose you, now, did she?_ muttered that traitorous little voice in the back of his mind. He swallowed. Not in so many words, but did that really matter, when they had all their actions?

_Her actions didn’t say that, either_, continued that voice dangerously.

Don’t go there, he thought.

_Too late._

* * *

When he woke up, the world was a blur of colour and noise. He groaned, tried to lift his arms to block out the cacophony, but his hands wouldn’t obey. His mind was a mess. He couldn’t think straight, and there was so very _much_ around him he couldn’t think how to stop it.. The noise was deafening, painfully so, and the colours were so vibrant and messy they hurt his eyes.

What had _happened?_

_No lighting today? What's the matter? Afraid I'll redirect it? _

It echoed around him; his words, his voice saying them, but not him, not now. Was it real?

_Oh, I'll **show** you lightning! _

The memory seared across his mind like flames scorching his eye, and the pain was real. “No…” he moaned weakly. Fire lanced across his body, unlike any fire he’d ever felt before. The pain was blinding.

** _Zuko!_ **

“_NO!_” He sat bolt upright, suddenly able to move again, and it was agony. He cried out, clutching his stomach, and the world would not still. It was a mass of movement and sound and he couldn’t make anything out. For what seemed like an age, they whipped around him, and it was a tornado and he was sure he was going to suffocate or drown or both. He put his head in his hands, but the noises didn’t quieten. A ragged sob tore itself from his throat, and terrified, he begged for it to stop. He just wanted it to stop.

_Zuko…_

But then, through the rage, the softest plea. A gentle breeze that extended a kind reach. He latched onto it and felt himself pulled out of the pain and fury as though floating up to the surface of water. The colours around him solidified into discernible shapes.

There was a lot of red and gold—he must’ve been in the Palace. Off to his side, however, was a smear of blue. He turned and blinked a few times, unsurprised but immensely pleased to see Katara sitting there, a tired smile on her face, eyes sparkling with relieved tears.

“You’re awake,” she said softly, her voice a little hoarse. How long had she been there, at his bedside? There were shadows under her eyes that suggested at least one night.

“I am,” he agreed, looking down at himself. “Thanks to you,” he added with a smile. Katara flushed. “How long have you been here?”

“A few hours,” she said. “You weren’t unconscious for long. I got a message from Sokka’s hawk. Aang…” she swallowed, a tearful smile. Her words shook as she said, “He… The war… he defeated your father. We won.”

He gaped at her. “We… we _did?_ It’s over?”

Katara nodded, tears spilling over. “It’s over,” she confirmed in a choked voice. At the same time, they leant forwards and clung to one another, not quite able to believe it.

One hundred years of war, and now it was over. They’d _won_.

They didn’t hug for long, though; Zuko groaned from the pain, and Katara recoiled as though burned. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I… I forgot.” Her eyes went down to his chest, and only now did he notice the scar in the centre of his chest, a ragged flower of raw, red flesh, and he grimaced when he touched it.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I did the best I could, but… some scars don’t heal. That lightning almost touched your heart, you might have some trouble controlling fine movements for a while. Unless I can get more Spirit Oasis water, I—”

“Katara,” he said softly, reaching out and taking her hand. “You don’t need to apologise,” he told her. “You saved my life.”

_Thank you, Katara._

_I’m the one who should be thanking **you**._

“It wouldn’t have needed saving if I’d been quicker,” she murmured. He closed his eyes against the words that hurt his heart, but he was tired, and elected to let that lie for now.

“I… I can’t believe it,” he muttered instead. “War is all I’ve ever known. All _anyone’s_ ever known. The only person who remembers peace is Aang.”

“Not anymore,” she said. “We will, too. And our children, and our grandchildren—” She leant back. “—I, uh, not… not _our_ children, I mean…”

“No, no, of course,” he agreed, and they dropped each other’s gazes a moment. They looked back up at the same time, and laughed, half nervous, half giddy.

“I just… I can’t believe it,” he repeated, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I really did think Aang would win—he’s the Avatar, and he has _you_, and… I just didn’t expect to _see_ it.” He’d meant that in a sense that it had seemed too fantastical to actually be real, even though it _had _happened. Katara took it to mean something else, and swallowed, and it was painful.

“Zuko…” she said. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault, I should’ve just gotten out of the way, I—”

Once was one thing. Twice was another. He wasn’t going to let her torture herself like this. “No,” he cut across. “Don’t apologise,” he said. “Please. You didn’t force me to do anything.”

Her expression was appalled. “Zuko, you almost _died_,” she exclaimed. He swallowed,

“It’s true I didn’t expect to survive,” he admitted, his words jerking and nervous as they spoke of his near-death experience. “Not that I wanted to die. I didn’t. I don’t. I just… I knew I wanted you to live.”

“At the cost of your own life?” she exclaimed. “You’re Ozai’s son. If you’d died, if you’d lost the Agni Kai… Azula would be Fire Lord. You shouldn’t do things like that, Zuko, you _can’t_.”

“Why not?” he demanded. “_You’re_ the inspiration of this entire resistance. _You’re_ the one telling us to not give up, to remain hopeful. _You’re_ the one who inspires everyone to believe in Aang. That’s more important than any title. Titles can change. The people who hold them can change, too.”

“I’d’ve been just as effective dead,” she told him smartly, folding her arms. She didn’t know where the anger had come from, but it was here now and felt it acutely, especially when faced with Zuko’s obvious irritation. It was as if they fuelled each other’s tempers. “_Martyred_, if that’s what it took. Hope doesn’t die like people do. But you can’t do anything if you’re burned to a cinder!”

“Better me than you!” he snapped, slamming his hands down on the mattress beside him and wincing. She started forwards to help him, but he shook his head. “Don’t,” he muttered. “I’m—” He groaned. “—I’m fine.”

“‘_Better me than you_’,” she scoffed. “Do you really think so low of yourself? You’re the Crown Prince, you’re the key to making sure the Fire Nation stays peaceful. You’re as important to the world as Aang is!”

“Oh, don’t tell me you seriously believe that,” he said scornfully, and she glared at him. “There _are_ other people who could take the throne.”

“Like Azula?” Katara asked, but her voice hitched on the name. In both their minds, the image of a poor, devasted girl haunted them when they closed their eyes. Unloved, powerless, depraved beyond help. She paused, glanced up at him. Azula had been his sister, after all. The same age as her, no less. How would Sokka have felt if _she’d_ ended up like that? Screaming, crying, terrified and insane?

Zuko broke the painful silence. “Uncle,” his voice was rough. “Just one example. He’d be a great Fire Lord, he was raised to be just that until Lu Ten died.”

“And that broke him,” she said shortly, her voice wobbling, but growing steadier as she continued. “He loved that boy and it destroyed him to see him die. Would you really put him through that again?”

“I…” Zuko faltered, for a moment unable to think of a reply. He dropped her gaze. “He would get on just fine without me,” he muttered. “He has his tea, his friends. Toph seems to really like him.”

Katara stared. “You _really_ think you’re that disposable?”

He shrugged dully. “Not completely worthless, no. I’m not suicidal. But if I _did_ die… nothing would _change_. I’m the ideal choice, but not the _only_ one. No one _needs_ me.”

Katara was so genuinely appalled by that response, the disregard he had for his own life, that she did something that shocked her as much as it shocked him. Suddenly—so suddenly that neither of them could stop her—she lurched forwards from where she was sat on the edge of his bed, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him.

Zuko made a muffled noise—surprised, not protesting. It hurt to move, but all the same he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. She fit so perfectly into his embrace; her long hair silky smooth against his skin, her lips soft and warm. She moved one arm to wrapped tight around his shoulders, the other still cupping the side of his neck gently, her thumb stroking under his ear.

_I’d be seeking closure for my mother’s death without you. I’d be imprisoned by pirates without you. I’d be searching for Appa without you._

_I’d be dead without you._

It was almost over before it began. She pulled away, just far enough to be apart, but still so close that they could feel each other’s breathing, and their lips brushed when she spoke. “_I_ need you,” she whispered.

“No, you don’t,” he replied, hoarsely, and he sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was her. “You have everything you need already. Your father, Sokka, Aang.”

At the sound of the Avatar’s name, she jumped from his arms, leaping back to her seat beside his bed as though stung, and he, too recoiled, bracing his hands on the bed so he didn’t topple backwards. Shame burned through the both of them, and for a long moment they couldn’t look each other in the eye. But it wasn’t the only thing they felt, not by a long way.

“Oh, La, oh dear…” she muttered. “Zuko, that was inappropriate of me, I’m so sorry… I should _know_, I… I was so furious with Aang when he did that to me.”

“Katara,” he sounded so very tired. “Please don’t apologise. I’m not mad.” _I kissed you back, after all_.

“You should be,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t have done that.” She rose from her seat, stood there awkward a moment, then bent at the waist and gave him a quick squeeze. “I really am glad you’re okay,” she said. “And I can’t begin to thank you enough for saving me. But… I should go. I should… I should go. Greet the others when they get here. They’ll be here. Soon. You rest.” She hurried for the door, a blush creeping across both her cheeks and down her neck. Zuko’s entire face, including his ears, had turned red.

But she stopped at the doorway, and for a moment he thought she would turn back and kiss him again. Instead she spoke, knuckles pale as she gripped the doorframe tightly. So she wouldn’t flee the room, or so she wouldn’t run back to him? He didn’t know, and neither did she.

“I… please don’t ever think no one needs you, Zuko,” she said. “It… it was your destiny to help us. We _did_ need you. And more than that, we _want_ you. You’re our friend.” Only now did she turn back, dare to meet his eyes. “Shouldn’t that count for something?”

Before he could answer, she was gone. He sat on the bed for a long while, not feeling quite strong enough to stand, his mind racing with everything that had happened. His lips burned with the memory of Katara’s kiss, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself. Not just for that it had happened, but for the fact that he would’ve thought a waterbender’s kiss would be cool and gentle.

Not that he’d been thinking about Katara—or any waterbender, really—kissing him.

But no, it had been fire and passion.

A smile ghosted across his lips, and he raised a hand to touch the spot under his ear. She kissed like a firebender.

And she would never kiss him again. Something strange ached in his chest, independent of the scar. She was meant to be with Aang, he rationalised, she was the Avatar’s girl. She had chosen Aang over him, and she always would. He was the son of the man who had almost destroyed the world. He was the Prince of the people who had killed her mother. He was the boy who’d almost gotten the Avatar _killed_ in Ba Sing Se. Of course, she had fully forgiven him; not a shred of him doubted that, but she could never _love_ him. Not like she loved Aang. She had braved too much with Aang at her side, and he had betrayed her too deeply for her to ever give him her heart.

Standing, he was a little chilly, and pulled on his robe. His scarred sternum protested this action and made it clear by sending a jolt of pain up his torso and into his shoulder; he grimaced. Then he noticed someone standing at the door, and he smiled a smile that was almost entirely unforced.

“Mai.”

* * *

“Mai…” he murmured.

“What? No. What are you talking about, Zuko? …Zuko?”

Someone was saying his name, and with a jolt he remembered where he was, who he was with, and all that was going on. “Huh?” he asked gracelessly.

“I said these plans look good,” Katara told him, in a tone that suggested it wasn’t the first or even the second time she’d said it. He nodded dumbly, brain still not fully caught up.

“Right… Right. Excellent, glad you approve. Me and Kuei hope to have the colony problem sorted out within the next year or so.”

“You’ve instated the dual-nationality programs?” Katara asked, and he nodded. “Established the native government?” Another nod. She graced him with a smile. “I’m sure he has nowhere to complain, then.”

“I hope not,” he muttered, “One of the dual-nationals tried to kill me three months ago—thought I was trying to rip her family apart.”

“_What?_” Katara exclaimed, “One of—one of them tried to _kill_ you?”

“It wasn’t the first time,” Zuko deadpanned, and Katara was well aware of that, but there was something different about it being an Earth Kingdom citizen instead of a political rival or an Ozai loyalist. “Probably won’t be the last. Didn’t you know?”

“No one tells me anything about the Fire Nation except you!” Katara replied, eyebrows raised as if she thought that was obvious. “But I… I thought that was all over, now that… Ty Lee said…” She faltered, looking almost distressed. “She said people had calmed down.”

“The aristocracy still mostly want me dead,” he assured her, “And there are still those who see the Fire Nation presence in the Earth Kingdom as invasive, alongside those who see it as essential, if with an unfortunate beginning.” He paused. “They’re all too… connected, now. There’s no way to remove them without fundamentally changing the placed they exist in.”

Katara thought that sounded an awful lot like relationships—friendships. She’d long-since thought that people were in a large part made up of the relationships they had with others. Certainly, they impacted how people developed. One could not remove a relationship from one’s life without altering oneself in the process.

Not a meaningful relationship, anyway.

Why had that thought come into her head? Why was it connected with Zuko? She wasn’t trying to remove him from her life—she was sitting right across from him at this very moment!

But of course, that _thing_. That poorly-defined _thing_ between them, that wedge or barrier that may well have been easy to summit or destroy, but they both felt compelled to keep it there for some reason—for fear of what would happen if it vanished?

Her relationship with Zuko had never been simple to define, and it had taken so many forms, so many dynamics, she wasn’t sure what to call him even now. She cared about him—of that much she was sure—but what else? This burning in her heart, what was it? It didn’t feel like what she felt for Aang, but it wasn’t what she felt for Sokka, either. Suki and Toph were girls, so of course she’d feel different about them as to him. So what was it?

_Mother_. The word came to her, unprompted, echoing in her mind like a howl. Was that it? That she had never mothered him? Perhaps—she’d mothered Sokka since they were kids, Aang since they’d met. Even Suki and Toph. Was the difference in her chest because… she had always mentally placed him on the same level as her? Thought of him as a true equal?

No, surely not. She thought of Aang and Sokka as equals.

Or… did she?

Not through any malice, but she’d always mentally pictured Sokka as slightly below her or slightly above. Not lesser or more, but just not on her level. Either she felt like she was deferring to him or she was ordering him about. With Aang, it was even more prominent, but of course he was the Avatar—of course she should be expected to defer to the _Avatar_.

_But we both know you’re not supposed to defer to your partner_, whispered that voice in her mind, the voice that she’s striven to quiet ever since the last Summit, when it had burst forth crying about Aang not supporting her as she supported him, about hating the Air Temple…

…about wanting to accompany Zuko as a Blue Spirit.

“I think you understand change more than most people in the Fire Nation,” she said slowly, “And humility—when to admit you’re wrong, or you’ve made a mistake.” Katara herself wasn’t too skilled at that—at least not yet. It was difficult to admit when you were wrong.

“It’s difficult to admit when you’re wrong,” he told her, “It’s a matter of pride. Too many people have too much, including me. The only reason I’m any good at admitting my mistakes is because I spent three years being repeatedly humiliated by you and the others.”

The smallest smile curled her lip. “That’s… one way of putting it.”

* * *

She’d been wrong, Katara realised as she left Zuko’s room. It wasn’t going to be awkward being around him. Quite the opposite, really. It was maddeningly, _infuriatingly_ easy to be around him, it felt so natural to have him at her side again.

Of course, they were friends, close friends, but that kind of ease was uncomfortable in and of itself when accounting for all that had happened—or almost happened—between them. Especially since, with all the preparations of the Summit to fray their nerves and tempers, she and Aang were beginning to get testy with one another again.

All couples argued, she knew. Sokka and Suki argued, her parents had argued, Pakku and Gran-Gran argued. But they didn’t _fight_. They didn’t disagree that for days on end they were alternating frustrated and miserable, they didn’t have long and arduous debates over things, and they were always so very sure that they loved each other.

In the privacy of her own mind, Katara allowed herself to doubt what she could never bring herself to say aloud.

_Do I love Aang? Do I _really_ love him?_

She had wondered in the past—others had posed that question to her: Suki, Zuko, even her father. But now she really began to consider these questions, and all they implied.

This was the way things were, she had come to realise. Aang was fifteen, which was still very much a child, but it was clear that the problems between them were not ones that were able to be changed; they were differences of personality, not situation.

And, though it was a realisation that had taken a long time, she didn’t owe to anyone a relationship in which she was unhappy.

All the same… she cared for Aang. She didn’t want to hurt him, she _never_ wanted to hurt him.

_Ugh_, why was this all so difficult?

_If it’s really all that difficult_, said a voice in her head that sounded uncomfortably like her father’s, _maybe that’s a sign that it’s not meant to be_.

Relationships weren’t easy, she knew that. They required work. But they weren’t _difficult_, either, they were supposed to be like any other relationship—with its ups and downs, of course, but ultimately it was supposed to make her _happy_.

And…

Suddenly, all that discomfort about it being easy to be around Zuko took on a different meaning, and she bit her lip, worried.

No, _no_. Zuko was her friend. Obviously she was happy around him; obviously she would find it easy to be around him. And all they’d suffered together during the war—from the pirates and the caverns under Ba Sing Se to the Southern Raiders and Azula’s lightning… of course they’d brokered some kind of connection. You didn’t go through things like that and _not_ have something unique between you afterwards—people didn’t work like that.

And it wasn’t—_it wasn’t_—easier to be around him than Aang. She wasn’t happier with him than with Aang.

She _wasn’t_. 


	11. Culture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mindful that recent events have strained their relationship once again, Aang is desperate to prove his love to Katara. However, as he turns to Zuko for help, Zuko wonders if Aang actually has Katara's best interests at heart, or if _he_ is the one whose judgement is clouded by feelings he would rather not admit.

Zuko wondered exactly when he’d started looking at Katara in this way. This way that had him tracking her every move like a foxcat stalking prey, that had this strange tightness in his chest in the instants she looked at him, flashed him a smile, or laughed at something he’d said. He wondered exactly when he’d begun to think of her as neither the peasant girl who’d maddeningly thwarted him and haunted his dreams, nor the young woman he’d come to think of as a close friend and trusted ally, but as this beguiling, fascinating creature whose every word he would be content to hang on, whose every wish he desired to fulfil.

He wondered exactly when he’d become the sort of honourless lowlife who pined for a woman who was content with another, and who wasn’t interested in his affections. But saying ‘no’ and stopping a kiss was a lot easier than saying ‘no’ and turning off your feelings. The best he could do was heed her wishes, respect her boundaries, but that did nothing to assuage the strange feeling in his chest.

It wasn’t quite pain—and by this point, he reckoned he could consider himself something of an expert on pain—but it wasn’t pleasant, either. Almost this tugging sensation, drawing him to her, _needing_ to be around her, loving when he was.

She was just so _interesting_. The way her mind worked, putting things together in ways he hadn’t considered, coming up with ideas he never would have dreamed of—yet she seemed to think they were obvious. Her eyes lit up, bright with possibility and inspiration, and she was as enthralling to behold as when she bent water; graceful and fearsome.

Watching her leave his room was strange. He felt like he should have said something, but had no idea what to say. Words had never been his forte—he had never been overly chatty, less so after being banished, but this sort of tongue-tied state wasn’t familiar to him, either. He’d been given lessons on public speaking since he’d been able _to_ speak. The only other time he could remember fumbling over his words this much had been when he’d finally defected from his father, and tried to convince the group that he was on their side, and that he could teach Aang firebending.

Seeing Katara made him feel just as he had on that day. Unsure, a little scared, and utterly at her mercy.

Though, this time, the difference was that the idea of being at her mercy wasn’t wholly unpleasant. Quite the opposite, sometimes…

* * *

Being hosted by the Avatar, and being held in an Air Temple, the Summit was of course set to be very different from the year before. It wasn’t going to be quite as grand or opulent, but then this wasn’t the first Summit, so all the grandeur and opulence could be dialled back a bit, anyway. This year it was absolutely about diplomacy and improving international relations.

The delegations arrived with far less fanfare, considering the Air Acolytes were the closest the Air Temple had to a native population to impress, and the whole tone was a little less pompous and a little more friendly. It probably helped that they were up so high, on these remote mountains. One felt a lot more free in a place like this.

But not, Katara thought, completely free. It seemed her life as the Avatar’s companion grew more cemented every day, and she still didn’t know what to feel about that. She’d never been one to stay in her box, so to speak. As a child, she’d resisted being put into the role of a housewife or a cook, as a teenager, she’d resisted standing idly by in favour of helping those in need. Now, as she inched ever closer towards adulthood, she prayed to the spirits that there would not be another role she felt compelled to resist. That now, people would let her do as she saw fit.

_Not completely free…_

Especially not at the Summit—she couldn’t risk Aang being distracted by their relationship, especially not now that _he_ was the host.

“Katara!” A cheerful voice pulled her from her thoughts and she saw a grinning Toph waving to her. Katara didn’t have to force her smile at all when she hugged Toph and began to ask how she was, meanwhile Hakoda clapped Aang on the shoulder and congratulated him.

“This places looks amazing!” he praised, and Sokka nodded, remembering the broken ruins he’d seen only two-and-a-half years ago.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Aang smiled up at the restored temple fondly. “We’re moving onto the Western Temple next. It got pretty battered up when we evacuated it, and even then it was in a bit of a state.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “Will Katara being going?” he asked.

“They’re kind of missing her at the Kya School,” Hakoda added, “She’s an excellent teacher, and a very skilled healer.”

Aang shrugged. “It’s a big job,” he said, “I’ll need all the help I can get.”

Sokka frowned. Katara was a waterbender, not an earthbender. There was no denying his sister was a force to be reckoned with, but what use would she really be in restoring a huge _stone_ temple? A look passed between him and Hakoda, and they silently both agreed not to press the subject—at least, not right now.

“Rest assured,” came a voice, and they turned to see King Kuei walking over, “You will have all the help you need from the Earth Kingdom. The Fire Nation has stolen too much culture from all of us. We will do our part to repair the damage.”

“As will Zuko,” Aang said lightly, but not without point. He eyed Kuei. “He’s very eager to get the colony reformations completed. Have the discussions with your representatives been going well?”

“Slowly, but there is still much to be done,” Kuei replied.

“And Zuko and I will be happy to help,” Aang told him. “I’m the Avatar, after all.”

Kuei nodded. “Your companion, Sifu Katara, has also been very helpful,” he remarked, “I understand she helped the Fire Lord draw up the initial proposals?”

“She did,” Aang said, smiling warmly at Katara, who was still talking to Toph.

“If she is interested, I would greatly appreciate her coming to visit me in Ba Sing Se sometime before the next Summit,” Kuei informed him.

“Oh, she might be kinda busy helping me with the—” Aang started.

“She’d love to!” Sokka interrupted, grinning at Kuei. “I mean, I’m pretty sure she would—why don’t you ask her at the opening dinner tonight?”

Kuei nodded. “That sounds reasonable. I would like to give her some time to consider my proposal. Having an answer by the end of the Summit will be necessary, given me and the Fire Lord are going to be conducting more talks this year.”

“Understood, King Kuei,” said Hakoda, inclining his head respectfully, “On the subject of conducting talks, it didn’t occur to me last year that the Earth Kingdom does not have the means to make clothing as warm as the Water Tribe…” His voice trailed off as he led Kuei away, and it was just Sokka and Aang standing there.

Aang frowned. “Why did you say that to Kuei?” he asked. Sokka cocked his head.

“You were answering for Katara,” he replied, shrugging, “Kuei was asking her, not you.”

“But she’s needed at the Temple, and the Southern Tribe,” Aang said, “She won’t have the time!”

“A couple weeks over an entire year?” Sokka asked, “What do you think the Summit is? And anyway, it’s not like she’ll be doing much at the Temple.”

“How would you know?” Aang demanded, growing cross.

“Katara writes to me, you know,” he said lightly, then held up his hands, “You know what—I’m not having this argument. This is between you two. But you should let Katara decide whether or not she wants to go to the Earth Kingdom. It’s a pretty big honour to be personally invited by the King, you shouldn’t dismiss it out of hand—especially for someone else.”

Aang’s mouth twisted—it was clear he wanted to say something, but for whatever reason, he was silent. Then, none too subtly, he realised he hadn’t properly greeted Chief Arnook and excused himself to do just that.

* * *

Akane and Hiresh were deep into conversation by the time Zuko arrived in the chamber Aang had told him was assigned to the Fire Nation/Earth Kingdom talks regarding the colonies. Kuei looked like he’d only just sat, and the two leaders bowed respectfully to one another before Zuko took his seat.

“Are you ready to begin, King Kuei?” Zuko asked politely, and Kuei nodded.

“The next stage is ready to be discussed,” he said, “We should discuss it. I understand some Fire Nation citizens have come to think of the colonies as their home?”

“They have,” Zuko agreed, “And in the case of many, they have Earth Kingdom relatives, and have lived there their whole lives. The Fire Nation is not their home.”

“But they are children of the Fire Nation,” Kuei said, “That is the precise reason we phased them out of the local government.”

“It is,” Zuko agreed again, wanting desperately not to antagonise Kuei. His words to Katara at the last Summit abruptly came to mind, haunting him.

_They’ll win, they’ll put Azula on the throne and the world will burn. And I won’t—I won’t have my legacy be another war._

“However,” he went on, “Would you not agree it’s a little… _insensitive_ to insist that these are Fire Nation citizens just because they have some Fire Nation blood? If they have Earth Kingdom blood, and have their entire livelihoods there… are they not Earth Kingdom?”

“One does not override the other,” Kuei said, a little tersely, “They are of the Fire Nation, if not wholly then at least partly.” 

“Dual citizenship is not something the Four Nations have ever had to deal with on this scale,” Zuko admitted.

“It is not, but the Earth Kingdom was colonised, its land stolen, its people terrorised. What kind of message does it send when I refuse to let them be compensated, or have the colonisers removed? What kind of message does it send when _you_ refuse to remove them?”

Zuko balked and forced his face to remain neutral, even as he squirmed on the inside. He didn’t have an answer to that—or, he did, but not one either of them would like. The truth was, he agreed with Kuei that the way the colonies had come about was heinous, and there was no other way around that. It was a scar on the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation alike—albeit in very different contexts; one a victim, the other the one holding the knife—and that was that.

The problem arose when they differed on what to do. Kuei seemed to think it could just be removed, but Zuko knew better than most that scars were permanent. One could put make up or clothing over them, but they were always there. But the meaning behind them could change, too, and they could turn from things of shame to marks of pride. In his opinion, something beautiful had grown out of that scar. Harmony and life and a new, strange culture had come out of war and oppression. He neither wanted to destroy it nor attempt to.

“What kind of message does it send when two world leaders ignore the wishes of their people for the sake of clean cultural divides?” Zuko asked Kuei quietly. “I will not deny that the colonies began as an atrocity. Just like the genocide of the Air Nomads, there is no other word for what happened. But something wonderful has grown out of that, King Kuei. There are families who celebrate both Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom holidays, there are earthbenders and firebenders in the same family. They have a life and… a _nation_ all their own, there. My family has already destroyed one Nation, and attempted to destroy another. I won’t follow in those footsteps.”

Kuei was quiet, actually somewhat stunned. He was young, for a King, but Zuko was younger, and he hadn’t expected this sort of wisdom from the mouth of one so young. Akane and Hiresh were staring at him, having been silent since he entered, allowing their superiors to speak. Hiresh was stunned, and Akane looked a little bit proud—or perhaps ‘smug’ was the word.

There was a long silence as Kuei considers Zuko’s words. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he said, “Are you suggesting we… let the colonies become their own Nation?”

“Not necessarily an independent Nation,” Zuko said quickly, “They’re absolutely still on Earth Kingdom land, it would be at your discretion. But they could… be their own culture. Perhaps Water Tribesmen and Air Acolytes would live there, too. A… melting pot. And, really—” The idea sprung to him out of nowhere, a burst of inspiration, but it worked and he was going to use it. Almost frantic in his desire to agree with Kuei, to show he was not his father, to work harmoniously. “—what better show of unity between the Four Nations if there’s a place where—where they all exist together? As one culture?”

Kuei thought this over. Another painfully long silence, and the air seemed to ring with the memory of Zuko’s enthusiasm.

“That…” Kuei said slowly, so very slowly, “…sounds like quite an acceptable idea.”

* * *

It was decided even before the end of the first week that Zuko’s suggestion of a semi-independent melting pot, a city built out of the colonies on the Earth Kingdom’s coast, would indeed be constructed and sanctioned by King Kuei. He was so shocked that it had gone so well, that him and Kuei were actually working _together_ on something, towards the same goal rather than compromising on opposing ones, that Zuko entered the huge chamber that was serving as a dining room in something of a daze at the end of the first week.

“You look cheerful,” Toph remarked wryly. Zuko stared down at her. “I can feel your heartbeat and your gait, Sparky,” she explained in a drawl. “You’re upbeat about something, and I think I’ve seen that exactly zero times. What’s up?”

This was actually true. Even after the end of the war, Zuko hadn’t been _upbeat_. Pleased, yes. Relieved, absolutely. But he’d been dealing with the new pressures of assuming the throne, wondering what to do with his poor sister, and coming to terms with the fact that his father was now rotting in the exact same cell that Iroh had been in only weeks prior.

This time, however? He had no family drama to weigh him down—at least, no _new_ family drama. And he thought he was well within his rights to be pleased about how the negotiations were going, and told Toph as such.

She grinned at him, cheeky and brash. “Nice to hear things are going well,” she said, then tromped off in search of food that wasn’t vegetarian. In the interest of cultural exploration, there were foods of all Nations present, but most dishes did not contain meat—if only because the Air Acolytes would not be able to try them if they did.

Zuko cast his gaze around, pleased to note that there was a great deal more orange and yellow than there had been last year. The Air Nation was still far from what it used to be, but it _was_ recovering, and there were over twenty airbenders in their numbers, all eager to train with Aang, to learn the art that had been lost to war and time.

“Zuko!” Aang’s grin popped out from the mass of orange, and Zuko managed an easy smile in return. “What do you think of the Summit so far?”

“It’s going well,” Zuko replied, “It’s going _really_ well.” And he told Aang about his and Kuei’s plans for a new semi-independent Nation. Aang’s face lit up, utterly delighted.

“That’s exactly the sort of thing an Avatar would come up with!” he exclaimed, “Promoting unity and harmony—can I help you guys?”

Zuko smiled at him and spread his hands. “I’m always open to another opinion,” he said, inwardly thinking of how important it was that he didn’t impose too much, that the cultures were equal and no one overpowered anyone else—but the Fire Nation especially.

Aang nodded. “I’d love to help,” he said, “And I bet some of the Acolytes would like to live there—not all of them are airbenders, and it’s pretty cold in these parts,” he admitted. Being so far south as well as so high up, it was more than a little chilly.

“That would be great,” Zuko said, wondering if anyone in the Water Tribe would be interested in moving somewhere warmer. “A place like that will really show just how much the world can change for the better—that the Four Nations aren’t meant to be so separate anymore.”

“I agree,” Aang said, his tone turning a little less happy and a little more serious. Zuko looked at him, his expression neutral, but there was something in his eyes that asked _are you alright?_ Aang swallowed.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you about something,” he admitted, “In private?”

“Uh… sure,” Zuko shrugged, and Aang led him out of the grand hall into a side room—no less beautiful or high-ceilinged, but a little more out of the way namely because it didn’t have a grand pair of double doors through which to enter. He supposed the entire building was full of chambers like this; almost hidden away. The Western Air Temple had been its own little labyrinth, there was no reason for the Southern Temple to be any different.

In the room, Zuko stopped and folded his arms as he waited for Aang to speak. He was shifting a lot, not quite jumping from foot-to-foot, but something about how his hands move made Zuko suspect Aang longed for his glider. Suddenly, he was struck by just how _young_ Aang was—not for the first time, of course, but how young he _still_ was, even as he coped with the responsibility of being the Avatar, the leader of the Air Nomads, and the host of the Summit. He was just relieved that he’d managed to win the argument a year-and-a-half prior, to host the first Summit in the Fire Nation. Aang would’ve worked himself ragged trying to finish the renovations in time, and had added pressures of hosting not just _a_ Summit but the _first_ Summit.

Watching him, Zuko didn’t speak, instead waiting for Aang to explain in his own time. At last, he did.

“I’m going to ask Katara to marry me.”

Zuko almost fell over in surprise. He stared at Aang, sure he’d misheard. “What?”

“I’m going to ask her to marry me,” Aang repeated, a little louder and firmer this time—like he was convincing _himself_ that he was going to do it, not Zuko. “She’s been unhappy for a while, I know she has, and I want to make her happy—I need to prove to her that I love her.” He ran a hand over the bald dome of his head, bright eyed with the same wild, nervous excitement that had captured Zuko during his meeting with Kuei. “She’s always going on about wanting a family someday—so I’m gonna ask her to marry me.”

Zuko blinked. “Alright…” he murmured, “When?”

Aang looked at him, seeming more confident now that he’d gotten the initial _I’m going to marry her_ out. “Next week,” he answered, “At the masquerade.”

At this, Zuko thought of all the people who would be at the masquerade, all the spectators who would no doubt catch sight of the Avatar, no doubt hear his proposal. Zuko thought of how Katara still found it difficult to voice her true feelings to Aang even when it was just the two of them in private, let alone in a huge room at a grand function.

He swallowed. “Are you… sure that’s the best idea?” he asked carefully. “Katara might get… embarrassed.”

Aang thought for a moment. “You think?”

“She doesn’t like her private life being aired out in front of everyone,” Zuko told him, “Really, who does?”

“No, I guess you’re right,” Aang admitted, “It might be a little overwhelming for her.” He glanced at Zuko again. “What do you think, then?”

Zuko stared, unsure of how to answer. He wasn’t exactly well-known for his dating life, he’d only ever had one girlfriend and whilst they still talked they’d never been anywhere _close_ to actually marrying one another, no matter what politics suggested. He faltered for a moment before saying, “Somewhere quiet. Private. She’d wanted it to be a moment just between you two.”

Aang nodded, considering this. “What about one of these hidden chambers? This is just one of them, but there are loads of them all throughout the Temple. A lot of them are holy places I wanted to keep sealed anyway, or we haven’t cleared the debris, but—”

“That sounds nice,” he agreed, cutting across Aang, though he wasn’t sure why. “Give her the necklace there.”

Aang blinked. “Necklace? What necklace?”

Zuko stared at him. “Her—betrothal necklace?” he said blankly.

Frowning slightly, Aang shook his head. “She already has one,” he said.

“That’s her mother’s necklace,” Zuko pointed out, “Not hers. Don’t you think she’d want one of her own?”

“Maybe…” Aang murmured, “But that’s a Water Tribe thing. I’m an Air Nomad.”

“And _Katara_ is Water Tribe,” Zuko said calmly, “I might not be the chief authority on what Katara wants—”

“That’s right, you’re not,” Aang interrupted, his voice sounding slightly… odd. “What do you know about what she wants?”

“I know that she was distraught when I took that necklace from her two years ago,” he replied dispassionately. “I know that she loves her culture as much as you love yours.” He fixed Aang with a measured look. He didn't know much about the Water Tribes, but he knew that betrothal necklaces were as precious as marriage rings in the Fire Nation. Admittedly, he as basing this assumption more off of the Northern Tribe, but he also knew almost all of the Southern Tribe's culture had been pulled from them during the War, and they were, in a sense, rediscovering their own culture. “Do you really believe she'd ever consider getting married without being given a betrothal necklace?”

Aang opened his mouth to retort, then when nothing came out, closed it again, and frowned. “I… I guess…” he muttered, looking uncomfortable. He sighed. “You’re right. If I want her to marry me, I should give her a necklace.”

Even as he said it, he looked a little confused. He remembered how upset Katara had been when she’d lost her mother’s necklace, over two years ago. Surely she wouldn’t want him to replace that with one he was giving her?

But he could see Zuko’s point—it was a tradition in the Water Tribe, to give a necklace, and even if he wasn’t from there, _she_ was. At the very least, it would endear her to him, make her more likely to see his side of things.

That he loved her, and that he wanted her to be his forever.

* * *

The next morning dawned with pale, watery sunlight. It was the sort of day that wasn’t _quite_ warm—only when stood in direct sunlight did one not feel cold, and the shadows were havens of chilly breezes and gooseduck-bumps.

Many of the delegates were being taken in gliders and balloons by Teo and his team of engineers, as well as a handful of Air Acolytes who were skilled enough in their airbending to glide. The actual Temple was fairly quiet, allowing Katara a rare moment to herself. The room she slept in at the Temple was right next to Aang’s room, with a window large enough to hurl oneself out of—the idea being that you could fly, she supposed. Since she couldn’t fly, she just sat on the ledge, admiring the sunrise.

A tentative knock at the door made her turn away from the dawn, and she called, “Come in.” The door opened, and Zuko stood there, smiling politely.

“Good morning, Master Katara,” he said. She raised an eyebrow, curious at the formal address.

“Good morning, Fire Lord Zuko,” she replied, mimicking his tone. She watched him a moment, watched that he didn’t enter the room, instead staying in the doorway, like he wasn’t _really_ able to enter this space—her space. “You can come in properly,” she prompted, but he shook his head.

A question came to her then: was it that he didn’t want to encroach on her personal space, or because he remembered what happened if they got too close to one another? She shook that thought away before a blush could rise to her cheeks and mark her as guilty. They had kissed once; _once_, and it had been a moment of such high emotion—relief, anguish, delight—that they hadn’t known _what_ they were doing. If Aang and Mai had been there, then there would’ve been nothing to say of it.

“I haven’t got much time,” Zuko said, and it seemed truthful enough. He’d never lied to her—at least, not as far as she knew—and she had no reason to believe he would start. “Jira wants to try out the gliders, and the rest of the delegation suggested I come, too.”

Katara raised both her eyebrows this time. “Well, it wouldn’t do to keep the Council of Fire waiting,” she remarked. He snorted.

“They’ll wait for me,” he said. They would have to. “I just wanted to ask… if you would consider coming to the Fire Nation at some point over the coming year.”

“What?”

“You were talking with Kuei earlier this week, right?” he asked, “I thought you’d agreed to act as a—as a mediator, sort of, between the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom. With the, ah, _project_.”

Katara nodded. She’d learned quite a bit about this _project_ from speaking with Kuei. She was flattered, really, that he had asked for her—asked for her _personally_—but hadn’t yet given an answer. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, because she did, so much as the fact that she already had responsibilities (the Kya School, the Southern Tribe’s trading talks with the Northern Tribe, Aang) and that she had no formal practice in politics. One Summit and a war effort were, of course, impressive, but it wasn’t the same as years of experience.

Zuko seemed to match her thoughts. “I think Kuei wants fresh eyes on this,” he said, “One hundred years of war because old men couldn’t let tradition die and pride be wounded. Kuei’s young, and so are we. Maybe that’s exactly what the Four Nations need.”

“That’s a good point,” Katara murmured, and it was. “I haven’t given my answer yet. But I thought those talks would be in the Fire Nation—the colonies themselves, or Ba Sing Se?”

“Probably Ba Sing Se,” Zuko said, “But I was hoping—_thinking_—uh… would you accept a position as the Southern Tribe’s ambassador to the Fire Nation?”

Katara blinked. “Me?” She almost followed this with _why_, but of course she knew why: because they were friends, because they knew how to communicate, because she had made clear she was good at negotiations. “But I have…”_ Aang._ “The… Kya School.”

Something flickered in Zuko’s eyes, but it was gone too quickly for her to identify it. “I understand,” he said, and there was no hurt in his voice—in fact, his tone was pleasant as before. “But you’ll come to Ba Sing Se, right? At the very least, it’d be nice for us to see each other outside of the Summits.”

Katara didn’t ask what exactly Zuko meant by ‘us’. That word that could meant six people—or two. She nodded, smiling, and when Zuko turned to leave, she went back to gazing outside the window, her thoughts filled with ideas of what it would be like to be an advisor to the Earth King, and an ambassador to the Fire Lord.

“Katara?”

She started, and looked back at the doorway. Zuko was still standing there.

“…yes?” she asked, hesitant. “Is something wrong?”

Zuko shook his head. “I don’t think—no, nothing’s wrong,” he interrupted himself. “I just… I wanted to ask you something. If you… if you don’t mind.”

She gave a shrug. “You can ask me anything, Zuko, you know that,” she said, “We’re friends.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. In the cooler climate, she wore her hair down, and her thick brown curls fluttered gently in the breeze coming through the window, glossy and shining in the sunlight.

“That we are,” Zuko agreed, and the smile came to his face much easier than he’d expected. “But it’s a… personal question.”

Katara’s expression only grew curious, and she tilted her head down to rest it on her knee. “Oh yeah?” She didn’t have to say that there weren’t really personal questions left between them. True, they didn’t _know_ everything about one another, not every little embarrassing story and weird secret, but there was a certain kind of bond you got when someone dove in front of lightning to save your life, when someone saved you from the brink of death, when someone saw you raw and exposed and at your worst and stood by to let you make your own choices.

“Do you…” Zuko began, but the words caught in his throat, more difficult to say than he’d anticipated. He paused, cleared his throat. “Do you love Aang?”

Katara’s eyes went wide. He saw several emotions flicker in her blue eyes. Confusion, indignation, anger, and finally something he couldn’t identify. Not quite hurt, not quite trepidation.

“Of course I do,” she said, her voice calm. A year ago, she would’ve spat it at him and stormed out, or screamed at him to leave. Now she just looked at him, and somehow she looked nothing at all like herself, and more like Katara than he’d ever known her to be, all at once.

“I mean—do you _love_ him,” Zuko said, “I know you—you’ve been through so much together. But do you love him the way—the way he loves you? The way you… _want_ to?”

Katara swallowed. A year ago, almost to the day, Suki had asked that same question. Katara had not had an answer then, and she didn’t have one now. She wasn’t entirely sure she _wanted_ the answer to that question, and she knew she didn’t want to give it. Not now. Now here. Not to Zuko.

Very calmly, she turned to look out of the window again, feeling the sunlight warm her face. “I hope you have fun gliding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay from this point onwards, updates are going to be less regular because A) I have exhausted the number of chapters I wrote before publishing the first chapter and B) uni has started up again and, sorry, but that's my priority.


	12. Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang remains oblivious when Katara attempts to speak to him about their relationship, focusing on a new, secret 'project'. Hakoda offers Zuko some comforting advice, and Toph imparts her own brand of wisdom onto Katara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I actually had this chapter ready to publish about a month ago, saved it as a draft, then completely forgot to post it. Sorry!!

Having the Temple almost entirely to herself was a new experience to Katara. Normally, there were Acolytes and builders interspersed throughout the hallways, but now it was practically empty, save for her, Aang and a fraction of the delegations who’d decided not to go gliding today. She often went several hallways before seeing anyone in orange and yellow.

In all honesty, she wasn’t sure she liked having this much time to herself, this much opportunity for her thoughts to creep up on her.

After a while, she decided to try and find her father. Whilst he had no end of respect for Aang and the culture of airbending—he understood better than most what it was like to almost completely lose touch with one’s roots, to have one’s ancient practices threatened and almost wiped out—he hated heights, and he _really_ hated flying. With that in mind, she knew he would be wandering around the Temple instead of gliding with the rest of the delegates.

She found him sitting in the yard of the Temple, next to the airball court, admiring the view into the mountains. He looked… peaceful. More peaceful than she had seen him in years, possible ever. Right now, he had no responsibilities—no tribesmen to lead, no trade to discuss, he was just a man basking in the quiet beauty of nature.

“Dad?”

Hakoda turned, his lined face already creasing into a smile. “Katara,” he said, “I thought you’d be out gliding with Aang and the others.”

She shook her head as she came over to sit by him. “I think I wanted some peace and quiet today. It’s been a busy week.”

Hakoda chuckled. “You and me both, sweetheart. I can’t believe this is only the second Summit.” He gave an appreciative hum as he closed his eyes and let his head tip back, feeling the breeze. After a moment, however, he opened his eyes and looked at her, knowing.

“Is everything alright, Katara?” he asked her. “Is something bothering you?”

“Oh, I… I’m just a bit stressed and—and tired,” she lied, unconvincingly. Hakoda raised an eyebrow.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine,” he said, pleasantly enough, but firm. “But don’t lie to me.”

She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, not meeting his eyes. “Sorry…” she muttered.

Hakoda put a hand on her shoulder. “_Do_ you want to talk about it?”

Katara gave a shrug. “I… I don’t know.” Something was bothering her, but how to voice those feelings, turn them into words—and was her father really the best person to talk to? Not that she didn’t trust him, of _course_ she trusted him, but some things were better expressed towards friends, or girls, or girl-friends.

“Well, how about you start telling me, and if you change your mind, you can stop?” Hakoda suggested, smiling warmly. Katara managed a more watery smile in reply.

“Do you… do you remember last year? In the Fire Nation? After you arrived you—you wanted to talk to me. You asked if I was happy.”

“You said you were,” Hakoda said, “You didn’t sound very convinced, though.”

“I wasn’t sure,” she admitted, “I’m still not.”

It felt good to say that out loud, more so to someone she’d lied to about it only a year previously. Maybe this past year had had as much a hand in changing her, helping her discover the woman she was to become as the one before it, the year she helped end the war. It was a terrible thing to admit, but at least she knew how she felt about it—at least she could think clearly. And she had been swimming through muddy waters for too long.

Hakoda stared at her, but said nothing. He let her speak.

“I love Aang,” she said, “I know I do. But Suki, and you, and—_others_—” She caught herself at the last second, for some reason not quite ready to voice that part aloud. “—you asked me _how_ I love him and… I think it’s different to how he loves me.” She swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt him. I _never_ wanted to hurt him. But—sometimes, he… he… it’s like I can’t _breathe_. He wants this life for us, he can picture it so clearly, but it’s like I’m an afterthought, or a trophy, and I know, I _know_ he doesn’t mean to hurt me, but it feels like he doesn’t _care_ about what I want.”

Hakoda nodded sombrely. “Have you tried talking to him about it?” he asked gently.

Katara huffed. “I spoke to him about it last year,” she said, “And I really thought things were going to be different. He seemed so intent on making a change, on both of us following our dreams together, not one sacrificing for the other. But… two months after the Summit, and there we were at the Air Temple, me doing chores, him teaching the Acolytes.” She sighed. “I know he’s only fourteen, maybe I should cut him a little slack—”

“Sweetheart,” Hakoda interrupted in a gentle tone, “I think you’ve already cut him far too much. If he’s too young for him to treat your relationship seriously, he’s probably too young for you. You’re not his mother.”

She swallowed. That thought had come her more than once.

“If you… if you don’t mind, Dad, I think I’m gonna go back to my room. I’m a little tired.”

His smile was weary, the smile of a parent who wanted to help his child, but knew this was something she would have to do on her own. “I guess I’ll see you at dinner, then,” he said, leaning forwards to kiss her forehead. As Katara got to her feet and headed back inside, he lay down on the grass, eager to indulge the few hours of peace he had left for the day.

* * *

It was times such as these when Katara would think about the last year of the war. Everything, every tiny detail, every grand adventure. She remembered exploring the Northern Water Tribe as much as defending it from Zhao’s armada, eating breakfast in Kyoshi as much as stopping the Unagi, getting a reading from Aunt Wu as much as saving the village from lava.

That memory stuck in her mind particularly… Sitting in that room, the heat of the fire dry on her face, so excited to learn of her future that she could hardly contain herself. But was _this_ what Aunt Wu had expected for her?

Of course, Aunt Wu made a point of saying people could shape their futures, and Katara had. She had risen above the stuffy habits of the Northern Water Tribe, befriended the son of the Fire Lord, defeated the Mad Princess in single combat, and was helping rebuild the Four Nations in an era of peace and harmony.

But as for her love life… that conversation came back to her.

_“Do you see anything interesting in my love line?” Katara asked, eyes wide with anticipation._

_A wry smile pulled at Aunt Wu’s mouth, amused by youth’s vibrance and curiosity. “I see a great romance for you,” she replied, “The man you’re going to marry!”_

_Katara gasped, delighted. “Tell me more!”_

_Aunt Wu paused a moment, looking over Katara’s palm, tracing the lines. “I can see that he’s a very powerful bender.”_

Well, there was no denying Aang was a powerful bender, but if she was honest, this didn’t feel like a ‘great romance’—some days it felt like she’d been backed into a corner out of fear of hurting her friend.

Maybe it was time she stopped talking _about_ Aang and started talking _to_ him. Between all the reconstruction and planning the Summit and _hosting_ the Summit, they hadn’t really had a moment to themselves for weeks.

Aang had—much to his dismay—had to stay behind from the gliding sessions in order to help the remaining Acolytes set up for the evening’s party. The masquerade at the end of the Summit was the big event, but that didn’t mean there weren’t other things to plan.

“Have you seen Aang?” Katara asked a passing Acolyte, brushing her fingers over their shoulder to stop them marching down the hall with their arms full of… well, she wasn’t actually sure _what_ they were holding, only that it was large and looked very unwieldy.

“I think the Avatar is in his quarters,” said the Acolyte stiffly. Katara forced herself not to scowl at them. Even two years later they still seemed to have something against her. Maybe it was her refusal to worship the ground Aang walked on, maybe it was because she was a waterbender, but for whatever reason, the Acolytes didn’t like her and frankly she didn’t much like them, either. If it were ever to come down to an argument between her and Aang, she wouldn’t have many allies within these walls.

“Thank you,” Katara replied, equally stiffly, and set off in the direction of Aang’s room. It was the same room he’d lived in back before the War. Some of the Acolytes, she understood, thought it was unbecoming for the Avatar to be living in a small, insignificant room in the Temple, but Aang was both of the opinion that it was a good example of the simplicity of the Air Nomad way, and more than reasonable considering it was about the only familiar thing left in this Temple besides Appa.

When she knocked on the door to Aang’s room, she was answered first by a loud _CRASH!_ from inside. A moment later, his sheepish voice called, “Come in!”

She entered, and saw Aang standing in the centre of the room, hands behind his back, smile wide, as if everything were completely normal. But he’d always been a terrible liar. She smiled, amused by him, endeared by him, and tried to think of a way to broach the subject that so desperately needed broaching.

“Hey, Katara,” Aang grinned, “I was just going to come looking for you, actually. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, great minds think alike,” she said, closing the door behind her. “You know you can always talk to me, Aang. I like to think I can always talk to you, too.”

“Of course you can,” he said, still grinning. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around much last night. I had to talk to Zuko about something.”

If she was perfectly honest, Katara hadn’t really noticed, between speaking to King Kuei about possibly visiting Ba Sing Se in the coming year and Chief Arnook about furthering inter-Tribe relations. But she tried to focus on that and ignore how her stomach twisted at the sound of Zuko’s name.

“And then I had a project that, kept me up all night. It—well, you’ll see.” Aang beamed at her like they were both in on some delightful secret. She grinned back, tired from the first week of talks, but invigorated, too. She had forgotten _just how much_ she’d loved the first Summit, how good it had felt to do this much good.

“I’ll see, will I?” she asked, “When?”

“Mm…” Aang pretended to be thinking something over, then beamed again, “How about next week? Before the masquerade?”

She eyed him, curious, but nodded. “Alright…” she murmured, tone thoughtful. She wasn’t quite present, half inside her head, other things occupying her thoughts. What could Aang possibly have to say to her? “Alright,” she said again.

“And you can tell me your thing then, too?” he suggested. Katara blinked at him.

“Um, actually, I was rather hoping I could talk to you now—” she started, but Aang shook his head, looking apologetic.

“I’m really sorry, Katara,” he said, “But Amaya said she needed help with preparations for tonight, and I promised.”

She sighed. At least he was making good on his word. “That’s alright, Aang,” she said, “Do you want _my_ help with anything?”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah, this is more of an airbender thing,” he said. “You just relax—we’ll talk properly tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

Despite the weeks he’d spent riding around on the Appa’s back, Zuko still wasn’t all that fond of flying, and graciously excused himself a little early from gliding that afternoon. One of the Acolytes dropped him off in the Temple courtyard and he almost immediately came across Hakoda lying on the grass, looking for all the world like any other man enjoying later summer sun. He could have passed for any commoner, whose concerns didn’t get bigger than what he would have for dinner that evening.

His blue eyes cracked open as Zuko approached though, a skilled hunter to say the least. “Fire Lord Zuko,” he greeted, pushing himself into a sitting position, “Had your fill of flying for the day?”

“More than the day,” Zuko replied, a little sheepish. “But I’m not here to fly around. I think the first week of talks has gone well.”

Hakoda nodded. “Me, too,” he agreed. “King Kuei mentioned something to me—an idea of yours. A… melting pot, I believe you called it?”

Now Zuko nodded. “It was a spur of the moment idea,” he said, “But I really think it will work. The Fire Nation is peaceful, now. I want to make sure the world knows it.”

Eyeing him, Hakoda asked, “Are you worried Kuei might launch an offensive against you?”

Zuko balked at the question, and Hakoda saw his error at once. “I’m not asking you as a Water Tribe Chief,” he said, “I’m asking you as the father of two of your good friends. As _a _father.”

“I…” Zuko considered Hakoda’s words and his own. “I know the Earth Kingdom suffered immensely during the War,” he said, “And I know Kuei is angry at himself, for allowing himself to be deceived by the Dai Li for so long and not helping the other Nations earlier.” He knew what it was like, to be ashamed and desperate to prove competence and strength. “I don’t want him to have to think more violence is needed. I don’t want any more innocent blood spilled.”

Hakoda watched him as he spoke, then very slowly, rose to his feet. Even though Zuko had shot up several inches in the past two years and was fairly tall, Hakoda was still taller than him by about half a head.

“You don’t have to fear that the Southern Tribe will not come to your aid, should you need it,” he said firmly. Zuko looked up at him, and for a moment Hakoda became acutely aware of how painfully _young_ he was. Not even twenty, barely a man by the Southern Tribe’s standards—or by anyone else’s, really.

And he _looked_ it. Under the scar, or maybe because of it, he _looked_ like a child still navigating the treacherous waters of politics. Even two years after being crowned. Even when outside his own home Nation and away from most of those who sought to usurp him.

He didn’t envy Zuko’s lot, but had sworn to himself he wouldn’t pity Zuko, either. He had proven himself capable, selfless, and good-hearted. That was enough for Hakoda to be willing to speak with him as an equal, no matter how young he was. The young Fire Lord didn’t want pity, he wanted to be respected by his peers, just as he respected them.

Zuko seemed unsure of Hakoda’s words, however. Not exactly doubtful—because he doubted neither Hakoda’s honour nor his word—but unsure. “The Fire Nation decimated your people,” he said quietly, “Almost rendered your way of life, your style of waterbending, you very _culture _extinct. Why are you so eager to help?”

“Because if not for _you_—” Hakoda very deliberately pointed a finger at Zuko, right at his heart. “—my daughter would be dead. You were a prince, the key to peace between all the Nations, and you threw yourself in front of lightning to save my daughter’s life without hesitation.” He paused, and a wry smile sparkled in his eyes, not quite curling his lip. “It wasn’t the wisest decision, strategically speaking,” he said, “But I am eternally grateful for you to it. It proves that you’re not like your father, and it makes a significant mark on what kind of man you’re going to be.”

“A good one, I hope,” Zuko muttered, frowning and not quite meeting Hakoda’s gaze. Hakoda clapped a heavy, calloused hand on Zuko’s shoulder.

“If your uncle and my children are to be believed, a _great_ one,” he said earnestly. “In my culture, at least, a chief is a servant to his people, not the other way around. I have been chosen to lead them, and I am bound by duty and honour to lead them well. And you have a very close understanding of those things, don’t you?”

“I spent a long time trying to regain my honour,” Zuko admitted, nodding. “It took me even longer to realise it’s not as simple as someone saying a few words. You have to…” He trailed off, unsure of quite how to word it, but Hakoda understood, and nodded sombrely.

“Sometimes,” he said, “People forget that the Four Nations have more things in common than differences. In the Water Tribe, honour isn’t something that can be taken or given by another. It’s something personal to yourself. Do you believe that _you_ are living honourably? By the tenets of the people? The morals of your heart?”

Zuko swallowed. “I… I do,” he said. The first time he’d answered the question so plainly, the first time he’d been pleased with the answer.

Hakoda’s smile was so innately fatherly. Warmth and pride was etched into every line of his face. “For that, I think we make excellent allies.”

“Me too.” Zuko smiled up at him, not a lord but a young man. “I’m glad I can count you amongst my allies.”

Hakoda squeezed his shoulder. “Likewise.”

* * *

Toph, being blind, had elected not to go gliding because ‘the whole point is to take in the stunning views or whatever—I’m gonna have a bit of a problem with that!’ So, she had slept in to an obscenely late hour and as she was getting breakfast, Katara wandered into the hall in search of lunch.

“Hey, Katara,” Toph greeted around a mouthful of food. Katara didn’t even bother asking how Toph could tell it was her from all the way across the room. By this point, she was used to it.

“Hey, Toph,” she said, taking a seat on Toph’s right. “You sleep alright?”

“Meh,” Toph replied, frowning. “It’s too cold up here. I’m not a fire- or air-bender, I can’t warm myself up so easy.”

“Ugh, I know what you mean,” Katara said, reaching across the table for a bowl of sea prunes. “I don’t think Aang—or Zuko, actually—get it. I need extra blankets in my room!”

“Or to share a room with Aang—or Zuko,” Toph deadpanned, mimicking Katara’s afterthought.

Katara froze and turned to stare at Toph. “Excuse me?” she said, more stunned than annoyed.

“I’m just saying, if you shared a room with them, you wouldn’t be so cold,” Toph shrugged, pretending she didn’t know exactly what she was implying.

“But—I—why would—why would I share a room with _Zuko?_” Katara spluttered, “I mean—he’s _Zuko!_”

Toph’s attention seemed to be primarily on the food by now. “And you’re Katara, what’s your point?”

“I’m dating _Aang_,” Katara insisted, “Not Zuko, Aang!”

Grabbing a bun and stuffing it in her mouth whole, Toph said, “That’s not a universal constant. You could always break up with him.”

“_What?_”

“Or he could break up with you,” Toph continued, pretending Katara hadn’t spoken, voice still a little muffled by the bun, but not so much that Katara couldn’t understand every word. “But he thinks you’re some kind of perfect thing who can’t do anything wrong, and you’re the one who’s been—shall we say—getting cold feet?”

Katara was well and truly fuming now. “Who—who are you to tell me about my own relationship?” she demanded, “If I wanted your input Toph—which I _don’t_, by the way—I would’ve asked for it! Is this what you’ve all been doing? Laughing at me behind my back? Making up these, these _ludicrous_ stories about me and Aang and—and Zuko?”

Toph raised her eyebrows and swallowed so she was, for the first time in the conversation, not speaking with food in her mouth.

“Katara,” she said, “I’m not trying to upset you. Really. But you haven’t exactly been hiding how unhappy you are with Aang.”

“I’m not _unhappy!_” Katara snapped.

“Yes, you are,” Toph said, unusually patiently. “And I don’t need to listen to year heartbeat to tell you’re lying. It’s not your fault if you’re unhappy with Aang, but it _is_ your fault if you don’t do something about it. The longer you leave it, the worse it’ll be when it all blows up. You _do_ know you could just… break up with him, right?”

Katara stared at her, not quite sure what to say.

“I know he’s the Avatar and all that,” Toph went on, “But he’s fifteen now, he’s the same age Sokka was when I met you guys. He’s able to take a hit to his pride and still do his job—or, he _should_ be able to. You don’t _owe_ anyone your love. Not even the Avatar.”

“He’s my friend,” Katara said, “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“I know,” Toph said simply, “But have you considered that this might end up hurting him more?”

Katara was silent. A year ago, she’d confessed to Suki her first reservations about her relationship with Aang, and Suki had told her that one’s first duty was always to themselves. Now Toph was telling her the same, and adding that maybe this course of action, whilst it _seemed _the kindest, may actually be the most damning of all.

“Thanks, Toph,” she said finally, “I… I think you’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Of course I have, I’m a fountain of refined wisdom,” Toph replied, then let out a large belch and reached for a platter of dumplings.

* * *

That night, everyone was so exhausted from the gliding sessions that the grand dinner for tomorrow night was agreed to be enough, and everyone retired to their rooms individually for smaller, calmer and less ostentatious dining. Delighted to have a quieter night, Katara joined her friends in one of the disused rooms in the Temple, and they sat around a fire eating stew and chatting just like when they’d been travelling two years ago.

Suki was halfway through some story about a group of bandits that made the mistake of trying to get the jump on her and a group of her warriors whilst they’d been travelling, and punctuated the retelling with a lot of wild gesticulating and over-the-top wailing. Everyone was laughing uproariously, but at the back of Katara’s mind niggled the fact that Suki had been travelling on her own—or, more accurately, without Sokka, for several weeks, and they hadn’t argued about it. At least, Sokka had mentioned any argument in the letters they exchanged, but she had no reason to assume her brother was omitting anything.

“And what did you do next?” Zuko asked, grinning. Suki smirked at them all.

“Why, I picked up their little knife and stuck it into the opposite tree,” she said, “And I told them that they’d better hope the next person who comes along was more charitable than they were!”

They all burst out laughing, and as Toph slapped Suki on the back and Sokka choked on a mouthful of stew, Katara’s eyes slid over to Zuko, and she was struck by how different he looked. In this context, in the light of a fire in an Air Nomad Temple, surrounded by their friends, this was the most she’d ever noticed how much he’d changed in the past two years. Not just his appearance—he’d filled out a little more, there was a healthier colour to his cheeks, the bags under his eyes were less prominent—but he held himself differently, too. There was less hesitation, more surety in his position.

And she honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him laugh so hard and so freely.

Not for the first time, she thought about how nice his laugh was. His voice was rich and throaty, and could so easily be commanding and threatening, but it could just as easily be a soft purr, especially when he made those sarcastic little comments, and the word she thought best described it was ‘wicked’. Devilish, roughish, wayward, mischievous. He had a _wicked_ voice.

Feeling heat rising to her cheeks independent on the fire in front of her, she looked away, but not before Zuko had felt her gaze on him. At the same moment she turned away, he looked at her, their eyes not quite meeting, but both aware that they had been caught.

And when Katara turned away, she locked eyes with Sokka. She blushed harder, wondering what his reaction would be, if he would say anything, if he would smirk or wink or wiggle his eyebrows. Instead, he held her gaze for a few moments, then turned back to ask Suki a question about her story.

Katara ducked her head down to her bowl to hide the smile on her face. She wasn’t sure about this, about any of this, but it was nice to know that whatever happened between her and Aang, she would have allies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ho-oly smokes! This chapter was an absolute SLOG to write, I apologise for the wait, my lovelies! Uni has been going hard and fast, and between that and work and everything else I haven't had much chance to write, nor much inspiration. But fear not! This was the last uber-difficult chapter, and the next one is sure to have a lot of... ~_progress_~
> 
> And thank you all SO MUCH for your lovely comments! Even though I haven't updated for a while people were still telling me how much they liked the story, and I'm really glad. Hopefully updates will be a little more regular now.


	13. Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the second Summit draws to a close, Katara is forced to face head on the problems she's been grappling with for two years.

The next week dawned hopeful and relaxed, with everyone eager to get back into the fray, particularly with Zuko’s suggestion of a melting pot in mind. Aang was called to make some suggestions about which land would be reasonable for the Earth Kingdom to ‘forfeit’ (Aang hated that word, but Kuei insisted it was the correct one, and Zuko had to admit that wasn’t entirely wrong). Meanwhile, Toph and Bumi offered input about how best to turn the chosen archipelago into a semi-independent city-state, Sokka and Hakoda made suggestions on constructing a port to make trading easier, and Katara was a near-constant presence alongside Kuei and Zuko as a neutral party.

But, Zuko found as the week went on, she seemed reluctant to speak to him directly. She answered his questions, discussed things with him and Kuei, but she never seemed to… to _engage_ with him. As if she were trying to avoid him even as they were having a conversation.

* * *

“Katara!” he finally said, on the final day of talks. The masquerade was this evening and everyone was looking forward to the close of the second Peace Summit, officially marking a second full year of peace between the Four Nations.

Hakoda had expanded on the previous Summit’s efforts and was well into planning—with Sokka’s help—a huge port to link onto the Southern Water Tribe’s coastal border. Chief Arnook had insisted a team of his best waterbenders be sent south to help with the construction, and Sokka, remembering the grand architecture of the Northern Tribe, had run wild with the idea.

Meanwhile, Zuko and King Kuei were growing closer and closer to a realistic execution of Zuko’s vision. And Kuei, having already invited Katara to the Earth Kingdom to help with the initial planning and the diplomatic matters, had insisted (‘demanded’ was probably a better word, but technically he could ‘demand’ anything of Zuko) she look over the plans before he would sanction any kind of construction or modification to the colonies.

“Yes, Zuko?” she asked, her voice a little… he wasn’t sure if ‘stiff’ was the word, because she was being perfectly normal, but there was something _there_. A barrier, almost tangible, between them.

For a moment, he felt rain on his skin, the weight of swords in his hands, the sound of droplets hitting a ceramic mask. Warm breath on his cheek. His lips.

Perhaps, he reasoned, a barrier wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“Kuei wants you to look these over,” he said, handing her a scroll from a distance slightly greater than one would normally hand something over. “He won’t let a single building be touched until you’ve approved these. Deemed them fair.”

Katara stared at him, then at the scroll. “K—Kuei wants _me_ to approve these? Not Akane and Hiresh?”

“They have to approve them, too,” Zuko assured her, “But Kuei seems pretty set on you being his ambassador.” Katara nodded, not looking up from the scroll. “Have you considered his offer?”

Katara bit her lip, glancing at him almost embarrassedly. “I’m gonna be really busy this coming year,” she said, “Building the new port, helping out at the Kya School, and Aang and the Acolytes…”

“Right…” Zuko murmured, “The Acolytes. You’re going to the Western Temple next, right?”

Rolling up the scroll, Katara nodded. “I’ll have these back to you before the masquerade.”

“What’re you dressing as this year?” he asked her. She smiled, a flash of something more natural, a crack in whatever stood between them.

“You’ll find out this evening,” she replied, and headed back down the hall to her room. She had barely been walking a few seconds when Aang shot out from seemingly nowhere and stood right in front of her, grinning delightedly.

“Ready for your surprise?” he asked, practically vibrating with glee. Katara started, caught off guard.

“Uh—what?”

“Your surprise!” he prompted, “Remember? I promised I’d show you before the masquerade!”

“Oh… yeah…” Katara murmured, “I’m sorry, Aang, could we maybe do this later? Like after the masquerade? Or-or the Summit? I have to look over these proposals for Zuko and Kuei—”

“Don’t worry about _that_,” Aang assured her, “Thanks to me being the Avatar and your helping out, those plans will be _easy_ to sort now that we’re two Summits in!”

“But I really promised to look them over,” Katara said, “Kuei won’t let anything go forwards until I make sure they’re okay—”

“Katara,” Aang insisted, “I _promise_, it’ll be okay! It won’t take long, and I really think you’re gonna love it. Come on!”

She heaved a sigh and gave in. “Okay, Aang. What is it you want to show me?”

Aang beamed at her, outstretching a hand, and Katara laced their fingers together. She smiled at him, genuinely enamoured, because he could be so sweet sometimes, and maybe she forgot that, but she shouldn’t.

At any other time, she might have protested in earnest—they had too much to do, too much to think about—but this was the final day of the Summit. As long as it didn’t take too long, like he’d promised, it would be okay.

He led her into one of the chambers that the delegates and even the Acolytes had never been in. Some of these places were so sacred, so burned into Aang’s memory, that he had insisted only he, Katara and Toph (as the most skilled earthbender in the world and the only one he really trusted) be allowed inside. This was one of them, and the quiet, commanding energy permeated the stone itself. It _felt_ like a holy place, like the heart of the Temple. The heart of the people who had once lived here.

“This is beautiful,” Katara murmured, looking up and gazing at the ceiling as if it was the first time she had stepped inside the Temple. It always had one more surprise to show her, she realised. One more secluded chamber. One more hidden passage. She could stay here for a hundred years and never learn every secret.

_A hundred years…_ The thought made her uncomfortable.

“I know,” Aang agreed, also tilting his head back to look up. “And private.”

This snapped Katara back to the present and she realised now was probably the best place to discuss how she felt, to come clean that something needed to change—for real this time. Not like after their argument on Ember Island.

“Aang,” she said, “I wanted to talk to you about something—”

“I did, too!” he said quickly, “Can I go first?”

She grimaced. “Uh, well, _actually_—”

“Please!” he insisted, “It’s really important!”

Letting out a sigh, Katara conceded. “Okay, Aang, you can go first.” She gave the same weary, amused smile her father gave her, then remembered that was the smile a parent gave their child.

Aang managed a nervous laugh. “O—okay. Cool,” he said, “I—uh—I wanted to—I wanted… to…” He swallowed, wishing his tongue and mouth would stop fumbling, that he would stop tripping over his words.

Katara, sympathetic even as she was irritated, encouraged him rather than suggesting she go first. “You can tell me anything, Aang, you know that.”

He nodded. “I know. That’s what—one of the things I love about you. You’re so patient. Even when I—I know I’m not always the easiest in the world to get along with. I know I can be kind of selfish, a bit self-centred. But you’re always there for me, and you’re always so kind. And—and I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Katara blinked at him, wondering where all this was coming from. She opened her mouth to say that was exactly what she had wanted to talk to him about, but he looked at her pleadingly.

“Just—let me finish—because… I don’t know if I can get this out if—if you…” He paused, swallowed again. “I love you, Katara,” he said simply, “So, with that—with that in mind—” He thrust out both his hands at the same moment he dropped to one knee in front of her. “—will you marry me?”

Katara stared at him. She stared at his smile, at the necklace in his hands, the clumsily-but-lovingly carved Air Nomad crest, the orange ribbon, the glitter in his eyes as he gazed up at her.

“You… want me… to—to… _marry_… you?” she finally stammered out. Aang nodded.

“I love you,” he said, “I want you to be my wife, and want us to be together forever.”

And suddenly, a life flashed before her eyes. A life of _this_. Of helping Aang with mundane chores, of being trapped up in the mountains for months at a time without seeing her family or friends. Being chained to Aang and wherever he was going, unable to branch off and help people who eneded the kind of aid _she_ could offer without being guilty. A life where she couldn’t properly pursue teaching Southern waterbending. A life where she couldn’t be an ambassador to the Southern Tribe. A life where she was only ever the Avatar’s faithful companion, the Avatar’s girlfriend, the Avatar’s _wife_.

A life in which she was only defined in terms of someone else. Not Katara. _The Avatar’s._

Something inside of her snapped.

She didn’t know what exactly in this train of thought set it off, only that it was a long time coming. Only that she’d come to talk to Aang about it and even then he hadn’t been willing to let her say what she had wanted to say without speaking first. The culmination of all that forcing things down, trying to talk only to chicken out or be ignored or be misunderstood time and time again, those promises to be better that were never kept, every little niggle where he said _she_ was _his_, like she was some _thing_, where her wants and hopes and dreams were less important than his, where she needed to be a housewife instead of a diplomat, a companion instead of a teacher, a mother instead of a leader. Something inside of her snapped and she knew at once that it wasn’t the sort of thing that could be repaired.

“And what about what I want?” she asked. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t venomous. It was calm and simple and so casual she might have been asking about what the weather was going to be like.

Aang’s smile faltered, and he blinked, clearly having not expected this question—having not expected any response other than _yes_—and having no idea how to reply.

“Uh… is this… is this not what you want?” he asked her.

Katara looked at him, still feeling so strangely calm. “Don’t you think you should know what the person you’re proposing to wants?”

Aang got to his feet, still holding out the necklace. “I thought you wanted a necklace,” he said, sounding not so much hurt as confused. He couldn’t understand why this wasn’t working, why it wasn’t going as how he’d pictured in his head. Maybe, she thought, maybe it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t see things from her perspective. Maybe she’d sheltered him too much, hidden from him too much. Maybe she hadn’t given him the opportunity to learn.

_Maybe_, she thought, but she’d had enough of making excuses for him, and she’d had enough of seeing things from _his_ perspective whilst getting nothing in return.

“I want a boyfriend who won’t guilt me into going along with what he says,” she said, no longer trying to keep the bitterness from her tone. “I want someone who supports my dreams, not just their own. I want someone who would _know_ how I would respond to a proposal, who would talk about marriage and stuff like that _before_ pulling something like—like this!” She gestured at him, at the necklace in his hands. She was almost surprised by how little it tempted her, by how much she didn’t want it. The necklace being offered to her. The _life_.

“I… I’m sorry, Aang,” she said heavily. This wasn’t what she’d expected. Maybe a fight like a huge explosion that would blow them both away, or maybe a slow petering out until neither of them cared enough to try anymore, but not this awkward in-between. Not this difficult, uncomfortable extrication of themselves from each other. She could feel his heart breaking as acutely as her own, but she knew, she knew this was the best she could hope for now. Because each day would make it harder and harder to say no, and eventually she would end up hating him, and that would be unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, “But I…” She looked at him with tears in her eyes. “I don’t think we can be together anymore.”

Aang’s face fell, and she saw him crumble, his heart cracked into dust, and felt wretched. She wanted to reach out and hug him, to apologise, but that would not work. She would make promises she couldn’t keep, and she was sure he didn’t want affection from _her_ of all people right now.

To his credit, all he said was, “Could we have?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted. But it didn’t matter, not really. Because they were here and now, and here and now they _didn’t_ work, they would _never_ work and that was the truth they both had to face.

It had taken her two years to realise it. She only hoped Aang would understand why in less time, and save himself the trouble of loving her—the girl who broke his heart.

She loved him, she did. But she wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ be the person he wanted her to be, and she was done trying, for both their sakes. Grieving their relationship was hard, but it was less hard than grieving their love for each other would’ve been.

That didn’t make her tears hurt any less.

* * *

In the late afternoon, Zuko heard a knock at the door of his chambers. “Come in,” he called, and he wasn’t surprised to see Katara standing there with the scroll in her hand, but the tears on her face, the redness of her eyes…

“Are you alright?” he asked, getting to his feet. Katara looked at him fiercely.

“I’m fine,” she said, “I looked over the plans for the colonies. The land suggested looks—looks fine. The preliminary government should hold until something—something more permanent can be instated.” She was sniffing a lot as she spoke, her words shaking. Zuko frowned.

“Katara,” he said earnestly, “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but please don’t lie to me.” He outstretched a hand to lay it on her shoulder, and was struck that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d touched her. Katara was normally so tactile; hugging her brother and father, kissing Aang on the cheek, squeezing her friends’ hands.

“It’s…” she began, the words halfway to her lips already. _It’s nothing. It’s fine. _But it wasn’t nothing, and it _certainly_ wasn’t fine.

“Do you want to talk to Sokka?” Zuko suggested, “Or Hakoda? Or Suki? I understand if you don’t want me, if you need someone in particular—”

“No, Zuko,” she said softly, “No, it’s—”_ Don’t say it. It’s a lie. And you’ve said it far too many times already._ “I just need a bit of time to… sort through my thoughts. Here.” She handed him the scroll. Zuko hesitated a moment before taking it with both hands, his palm tingling with the memory of touching her shoulder, the soft material of her tunic.

Katara made for the door, pausing at the threshold to add, without looking back at him, “But you would’ve been just as good as confidant as any of them. You know that, right?”

She left before he thought to give an answer.

* * *

That evening, the central chamber of the Temple had been hung with thousands of banners and tiny lanterns, bathing the entire hall in a warm, cozy glow. The delegates and Acolytes were dressed in fabulous costumes, everyone seeming eager to outdo themselves—and everyone else—from the previous year. There was no shortage of dragons and spirits milling about, and no one paid much attention to the foxcat mask in the corner, meticulously carved wood, painted red and orange with swirls of gold highlighting the eyes and maw.

With all the grace of a foxcat, the wearer of the mask fixed their eyes on a silver-dressed attendee across the room. Their movements were furtive, unsure. Something had shaken them and they wanted desperately to be anywhere but here.

“Flame-O, Hotman!” came a voice, and the foxcat jumped—decidedly _un_gracefully—as a skybison mask was shoved in their face.

“Isn’t that the same mask you wore last year?” Zuko asked. Aang nodded.

“You can’t improve on perfection!” he said, deciding not to mention how he’d also been too busy to make a new mask because of a _different_ project he’d been working on. Not that it had turned out to be worth it.

“It’s very nice,” Zuko agreed, his tone only vaguely pacifying. He had a sneaking suspicion that Aang was related to Katara’s earlier mood. Perhaps they’d argued about her position at the Temple again—Aang wanting her to stay, Katara herself wanting to go to the South Pole and, possibly, the Earth Kingdom. She’d been very careful this past week not to make any statements either way about whether she would take Kuei up on his offer. Zuko honestly had no idea if she even _wanted_ to go. Maybe she was satisfied teaching at the Kya School and helping out at the Summits.

No, that couldn’t be right. The young woman who’d dressed up as the Painted Lady, and later a Blue Spirit, would never be satisfied with a sedentary life. She needed to help people, _needed_ to, it was her drive to right wrongs and counter injustices.

“Have you seen Katara?” Zuko then asked, raising his head to look back at the silver attendee, but they were gone. He hadn’t been _certain_ it was her, but he’d grown so used to reading her by her movements instead of her face that he’d been fairly sure. Aang’s mood immediately darkened.

“No,” he said, oddly toneless. “I haven’t.”

Zuko frowned at him, hidden by the mask, but said nothing. He might’ve said something, but Chief Arnook then descended and started speaking to Aang about expanding the Northern Tribe’s trading routes, and Suki appeared out of nowhere to wrap her hands around his arm and fix him with a grin under her Earth spirit mask.

“Do you know what’s wrong with Katara?” Suki asked. Zuko stared at her.

“What?”

“She’s been in a really weird mood all day,” Suki insisted, “I’m actually getting worried. I’ve never seen her this… _gloomy_. Did you say something to her?”

“I—no,” he said blankly, “I barely talked to her. I just asked her to look over the plans for the colonies. Kuei said he wouldn’t approve them until she—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Ty Lee filled me in,” Suki said briskly, “But Sokka knows something’s up and he’s getting worried. And I don’t want him asking Katara outright because she’ll either shut up completely or explode and yell at him.” They both understood that the Princess of the Southern Water Tribe screaming at someone—even if that someone was her older brother—wouldn’t look good, especially not on the final night of a Summit. The last image was the one people took home.

Suki looked at him earnestly. “Do you have any idea what might’ve upset her?”

“Me? Why would I know?” Zuko hoped he didn’t sound as shrill and unconvincing as he thought he did. “Why don’t you ask Aang? He’s her boyfriend—not me.”

Suki huffed. “She doesn’t tell Aang anything, she’s too busy protecting him, and he’s so busy—” Sometimes Zuko wondered if ‘busy’ was the right word. ‘Self-absorbed’, maybe, or ‘unobservant’. Those words felt harsh, but not necessarily inaccurate. “—he won’t have noticed a thing.”

“Hm. True.” He sighed. “Do you want me to go talk to her?”

Suki shrugged. “You have a knack for getting her to speak. She might yell at you for a bit, but it’s not like when she shouts at Sokka.” She eyed him. “You do… _want_ to help Katara, right?”

“I want her to enjoy the last night of the Summit,” Zuko said frankly, “It’s supposed to be a party, everyone’s supposed to have _fun_. The hard part should be over.”

“Huh.” Suki looked him up and down, her expression mild rather than condescending. “And I thought _Aang_ was the naïve one.”

Scowling, Zuko looked around for Katara—or, for the silver-dressed person he suspected to be Katara. A few minutes of searching left him empty handed, the crowd was too thick and too brightly coloured to be easily navigable.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” A loud voice rang out and made him—and everyone else—turn to the front of the room. Aang was hovering several feet off the ground with a ball of air, grinning down at them all. “This is the second ever Peace Summit, and it was just as successful as the first! Here’s to another year of peace between the Four Nations!”

“Peace!” cried the crowd, “Another year of peace!” A great cheer went up and the music began, sending the delegates into a gleeful frenzy of drinking and dancing. The air was thick with merriment and Zuko was jostled about as he struggled to see through the crowds.

Wait! There! A flash of silver!

He pushed past a particularly large Earth Kingdom man and between two giggling girls whom he was sure would be offered to him to dance with later that evening. The ongoing tension in the Fire Nation hadn’t dampened the Council’s insistence he marry, and the individual factions—some insisting on a foreign wife, some on a Fire Nation one—were getting rowdier. He was _this_ close to passing a law forbidding any mention of suitors and marriage at council meetings.

The silver-dressed person was clinging to the walls, he soon realised, avoiding people. This was a recent decision, because their costume wasn’t the sort that helped one be overlooked. But as he grew closer, he caught more subtleties of their movements, how they held themselves, and grew surer that it was indeed Katara. By the time he was standing behind them, he could see the soft, thick waves of dark brown hair, braided with silver threads, and smell the sea air.

“Katara,” he said quietly, and she turned, startled.

“Oh. Zuko.” Her tone was halting. “Did you… like Aang’s little speech? Are you enjoying the party?”

She normally wasn’t this transparent when she was trying to deflect—which made clear just how unsettled she was. He looked at her. “Please tell me the truth,” he said. “I want to help.”

“There’s nothing you can do to help, Zuko,” Katara said firmly, “Nothing _anyone_ can do.”

“Did…” He was unsure if he should ask the question. He didn’t want to tip Aang’s hand by accident, but he needed to know what was wrong with his friend. “Did Aang… _propose_ to you?”

Katara stared at him. “You _knew_ he was going to do that?” she hissed. He blinked.

“He _did?_”

“He did. And I said no,” she said shortly. Zuko blinked again, opened his mouth to ask a question. Katara answered it before he uttered a syllable. “And _no_, I’m _not_ alright, but I’m _trying_ to be because this is the end of the Summit!”

Suki had been right, Katara _did_ open up around him. He was just the right combination of encouraging and irritating that got her talking about her feelings.

“Would you like to go somewhere with fewer people?” he asked calmly. Katara gaped up at him from behind her mask.

“What?”

“You don’t look too happy here,” he said, “You clearly don’t want to be around Aang right now. Or these other delegates. Do you want to go somewhere with fewer people?” he repeated.

There was a beat of silence, then Katara nodded. “I know a quiet place. Follow me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided early on I wanted Katara and Aang’s break up to be pretty clean—they argued so much in the earlier chapters it kind of made sense that they would just… blow each other out a little. By the time they reached breaking point Katara isn’t angry. She’s just numb, she doesn’t care enough to fight for this anymore. Aang matures and grows from the experience, becomes someone he needs to be. Someone maybe Katara could’ve loved if he’d managed to do that earlier. But as we all know, there’s no point wasting time on ‘if’.


	14. Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara is shaken by the day's events and wants nothing more than to stay away from people, but the masquerade is here. Zuko's concern gives her an unusual idea for working through her lingering emotions, possibly worsening new emotions in the process.

Katara led Zuko out of the masquerade hall with no one really noticing. Everyone was too caught up in the games Aang was explaining to them, or too drunk, or too uncaring about two people in unremarkable masks—or all three. No one suspected the Fire Lord was the one behind a foxcat mask.

“So…” Zuko said slowly as they walked through the high, cold hallways. The Temple’s architecture could not be more different to the Fire Nation palace, with it’s almost oppressive heat, low ceilings and elaborate decorations. “Who’re you supposed to be this year?” He looked Katara and her silver ensemble up and down. “Tui again?” he asked, knowing the answer was incorrect even as he said it.

Katara shook her head. “Just a generic mask,” she said. She wasn’t quite sure how to voice how lost she’d felt this past year, how it had ended up coming out in her costume. Her mask was beautiful, but it didn’t really resemble anything. It was formless, unsure—like her. Except… maybe slightly…

“It looks a little like your Blue Spirit mask,” Zuko remarked. “Was that deliberate?”

At that, Katara gave a shrug. “I just… did what I thought looked nice.”

“You know,” Zuko said, smiling wryly, “I’m sure the Blue Spirit wouldn’t object to having a companion helping them out again.”

“Wouldn’t it be suspicious?” Katara asked, “If I turned up, only to have the second Spirit return?”

“The people are convinced the Blue Spirit is an outsider, but most don’t think it’s a human in a mask,” Zuko told her. “Those that do would never think to consider it’s a Fire Nation citizen. He did a lot to wound the national pride. And even if the people agree the war was a bad idea… pride counts for a lot, where I’m from.” His tone was almost embarrassed.

“I’m aware,” Katara said, the slightest amusement edging her tone. Zuko smiled.

“So, are you ready to tell me what got you so upset?” he asked. He didn’t want to press, but he was convinced it was to do with Aang, now. The proposal evidently hadn’t gone over well. He should’ve realised earlier, really, considering he’d practically given Aang the idea to propose to her before the masquerade, give her a necklace. But she was still wearing her mother’s.

“Not yet,” she muttered, leading him down an even more narrow, high-ceilinged hallway and squeezing through a grab in a small pile of rocks that he honestly wouldn’t have noticed had Katara not gone through. Even standing right in front of it, he couldn’t see where the gap was until she poked her head back through and said, “Well?”

“Right,” he said, stepping awkwardly into the gap and emerging in a huge chamber with half it’s ceiling missing, exposed to the night sky. In one corner was a waterfall fountain, sparkling with starlight as water flowed into a pool and, presumably, out of that one and into other pools around the temple. Toph had said during the restoration efforts that the Temple was threaded with so many hidden waterways that even _she_ had trouble navigating around them when rebuilding.

“_Agni_…” Zuko exclaimed softly, raising his hands to remove his mask. As he lowered it, giving him back his peripheral vision, he turned slowly around to take it all in, mouth dropped open. “This is…” He trailed off, unable to find the right words.

“I know,” Katara said, taking off her own mask and setting it down on the lip of the fountain. It sparkled under the light of the stars as if it had been made from them.

“This isn’t at all how I imagined the Southern Air Temple would look like,” he admitted, and Katara raised an eyebrow.

“How do you mean?”

He gave a shrug. “I guess I pictured it like the Western Temple.” It was certainly the one he’d spent the most time in. Once as a boy paying for a man’s mistake, then as a man paying for a boy’s.

Katara let out a hollow laugh. “I’ve been living here so much these past two years… I almost can’t remember what the Western Temple _looks_ like.”

“You should visit,” he told her. “I remember. It was beautiful.” He’d always thought that, even as an angry, wounded boy. The architecture was, in and of itself, a marvel. The spirituality, even for him—someone who didn’t have much of a connection, or indeed _any_ connection to the spirit world—was humbling.

“I’d like to,” Katara agreed. “So many memories.” She paused. “I suppose I can, now.”

He turned to her. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “I said Aang proposed to me,” she said, “And I said no. But… we also broke up.”

Zuko gaped. “What?”

Katara shrugged. “We broke up. I called it quits and, it didn’t take as much convincing as I’d expected, but Aang agreed.” She paused, swallowed, then gestured around them. “I’ve got nothing tying me to this place, now. I don’t have to be a mother, I can travel again, go on adventures.” A small, hopeful smile spread across her face, but there was a crack in her voice that was impossible to miss. Zuko watched her.

“You really were unhappy with him, weren’t you?” he said softly. Pain flickered in her eyes, and she swallowed.

“Not in so many words,” she said, voice still unsteady.

“Katara,” he said gently, “Talk to me. What are you thinking?”

She swallowed again. “I think…” she started, then stopped. “I think… he had this image of me as this perfect idol, and when I couldn’t live up to it, he got frustrated.” She paused, glanced up at him, and he gestured for her to continue.

“He wanted me to be something I’m not and don’t want to be. I wanted things he couldn’t have and didn’t want, anyway.” She paused. “Maybe it was because of the war—spirits, listen to me, making excuses… but maybe… I should’ve been honest with him. Right at the start, I should’ve told him what I wanted. We could’ve worked things out, I wouldn’t have swallowed my issues and pushed them down until I couldn’t hold them back anymore.” She wiped roughly at her eyes, now sparkling with tears. “But I did, and I knew, I_ knew_ that I wasn’t going to stop doing that, and I was already starting to find him so irritating…” Her breath caught and she swallowed.

“I would’ve hated him,” she whispered, horrified. “I would’ve ended up hating him. If I’d been smarter, not treated him so much like a kid that needed coddling, maybe we could have been together.” A long, shaky sigh. “Yes,” she said. “I was unhappy with him. But if we’d been smarter, maybe I wouldn’t’ve been.”

“Are…” his voice was so soft it scratched. “Are you unhappy _now?_”

She shook her head, a pained parody of a smile on her lips, tears still in her eyes. “No,” she wobbled. “And that’s what makes it so awful.” Because when he’d stood there and offered the necklace, she hadn’t wanted it. She hadn’t even really been angry. She’d just been tired and numb. She didn’t care enough about their relationship to want to fight for it anymore. She’d just… let it go.

A year ago, maybe two, Zuko would’ve stood beside her. Maybe placed a hand on her shoulder, offered halting, awkward advice. But they were friends now, so he pulled her into his arms and wrapped her in a hug. He was so much taller than her that her head fit neatly beneath his, and he rested his chin on top of her hair, and left her cry into him, hands balled up in his tunic.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he told her firmly. “You can’t help what does or doesn’t make you happy, and the longer you pretended otherwise, the more you were going to hurt him, and yourself.” He took her by the shoulders and stepped back so he could look at her. “You have to stop thinking that just because you want something, you have to apologise. You’re allowed to have your own desires and goals, Katara.”

He paused, trying to think of the best way to express his thoughts. “You… You have to think about what _you_ need, too. It’s okay to be selfish. In fact, it’s not even being selfish, it’s taking care of yourself. You say you don’t want to be a mother, but you were mothering him, so it’s perfectly reasonable that you left. You say you want to help the people who need _your_ help, not Aang’s, so you should do that.”

He bent down slightly so he was eye-level with her, and looked at her earnestly. “Why do you think that just because your desires don’t line up with everyone else’s, you have to be ashamed?”

She thought of how she’d wanted to go after Yon Rha, at first not knowing if she wanted to kill him, and only becoming more insistent on that after Aang had tried to forbid her from going. She thought of how she’d wanted to spend time at the Water Tribe, only wanting to spend the full year there after she found herself so bored and useless at the Southern Temple. She thought of how that link of her desires and guilt was so intricately linked to Aang; how she’d pushed aside everything she wanted, everything she _was_ to please him—he hadn’t made her do that, she’d done it all by herself.

And _that_ was why they couldn’t work.

“I guess I just… _do_,” she answered lamely. Zuko blinked at her, then laughed. She felt vaguely embarrassed. He saw this.

“Katara,” he said solemnly. “You’re the most selfless person I know. I think it would do you good to be a little selfish once in a while.” He wiped at her cheeks, where the tears had trailed down her face. “There’s no shame in putting your needs above other people’s, you know. You are, first and foremost, your own person—and that goes for everyone.”

She thought this over, and decided the logic was sound. It seemed so obvious, so simple, coming from Zuko’s lips just now. She was amazed she hadn’t realised it sooner, and once more flushed. Then she stepped forwards and hugged him.

“Thank you, Zuko,” she murmured. “I… I needed to hear that, I think.”

“You _know_,” he corrected, mock-haughty. When she pulled away, he was smiling.

“I want to do something,” she announced. He raised an eyebrow.

“Taking this in our stride, are we?” he remarked. “What do you want to do? Go back to the masquerade?”

She shook her head, smirking. “I don’t care about the masquerade,” she said. And she didn’t. It was full of stuffy people and it was not what she needed right now. She turned on her heel and walked several paces away from Zuko. “I want to spar.”

Turning back to face him, she adopted a bending stance. “I haven’t had a good bending fight in two years. And you always were my favourite opponent,” she added, smirk growing.

Zuko grinned at her, cocky and challenging, adopting a stance of his own. “I was?” he asked, the question of _why_ hanging in the air between them, obvious as the scar on his face.

Katara met his gaze, eyes glittering with anticipation and daring. “You were never afraid to hold back,” she replied, and with that, she summoned a stream of water from the fountain and sent a waterwhip his way. He dodged it, thrusting out his fist and sending a fireball which dissolved against a wall of water she conjured, filling the air with steam.

She smirked as she heard the _hssss_ of evaporation. Two years. She was looking forward to a proper opponent.

* * *

Even in a large, open space, it was only a matter of time before the both of them were staggering, exhausted, hair plastered to their face with sweat. The air was hot and thick with steam. That tended to happen in sparring matches between waterbenders and firebenders. Katara flicked her wrist and cooled the water down a little, spattering them with light rain, before beading it up into a torrent and sending it straight for Zuko, who was charging at her, fist pulled back to shoot a fireball. Because she was so tired, the force she put into sending the water at him made her stumble and fall backwards, just as the gush of water collided with Zuko. It was hard enough to quench his fireball and disorientate him, but not enough to actually reverse his momentum. He fell to one knee, only quick reflexes in the form of him thrusting out his arms stopping him from falling directly on top of her.

Katara stared up at him a moment, startled and recovering from the shock—she’d expected him to fall and had braced for an impact that hadn’t come. Relieved, she let out a great sigh, and lay down flat on the stone, too tired to continue. “Shall we call it a draw?” she suggested in a wheeze.

“Sure,” Zuko muttered panting heavily, kneeling over her. “Could you…?” He nodded upwards. Katara gathered her remaining strength and sent the remnants of her water up, freezing it into snow. The flakes landed on their skin, enticingly cold and refreshing. Zuko made a sound of pleasure. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“Don’t mention it,” she mumbled wearily, still breathing so hard her chest heaved. “Spirits, are we _that_ out of practice? I’m spent.”

“Me, too,” he agreed. They were both too tired to even move—even Zuko, who was still on one knee, arms out in front of him. His arms trembled slightly with the effort of keeping himself propped above her, but his exhaustion was such that even moving to a more comfortable position would be too much. “Maybe we just gave each other a good fight—have we ever just sparred until we’re plain exhausted before?” he asked thoughtfully.

“Mm, no, I don’t think so,” she admitted. “Before, it was either a real fight with a real winner…”

“…or we had to stop practicing because we had other things to do,” he agreed. “Huh. So I guess we’re as good as each other.”

“Good to know,” she remarked. “I’ll have to get my hands on some Southern Waterbending scrolls, brush up a little so I can really kick your ass.”

He scoffed—it was almost, _almost_ a laugh. “It’s cute you think you can beat me,” he told her. “The only time you _did_ was at the North Pole, when we were standing on an iceberg, and I was about to collapse from exhaustion.”

“You think that was cute?” she teased, but all of a sudden, things didn’t feel quite so free and natural. Suddenly the air around them awkward and words required careful thought. Suddenly it felt like that alleyway last year. And just like then, it had been all to easy to end up like that. She cleared her throat. “_Ahem_. Um. Thanks,” she muttered.

He looked up at her, blush fading with confusion. “For what?” he asked.

She flailed a little more. _Not for the cute comment. For… for—_“For letting me be selfish, I guess,” she replied, then grinned as Zuko stood up and outstretched a hand, which she took. “And giving me my first good fight in two years,” she added as he pulled her to her feet.

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you really not spar with Aang at all? Or Toph?”

“I didn’t see much of Toph,” she told him. And it was true. Toph had either been away, or too busy working on the reconstruction. “And I’ve spent almost all my time with Aang, remember? And no, he wasn’t up for sparring. He doesn’t like fighting it he can avoid it, and he said there was too much to do—which for _me_ meant cleaning and cooking,” she added with a sigh. Then she shook her head. “But that’s, uh… that’s over now. So, anyway, thanks. Again.” Her smile was a tad strained; cheeks flushed with mild mortification. _She. Was. Babbling. Quit it._

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “Being Fire Lord, either all your fights are done for you, or if you _do_ get in a fight, the other person’s trying to kill you.” He gave a small, thoughtful smile, as if just realising it. “You know, I think this was my first sparring match in two years, too.” He looked down and they both realised he was still holding her hand. He dropped it quickly.

“Happy to help,” she replied. “And if you ever want to be selfish, just ask. I owe you one.”

Zuko swallowed, suddenly looking a little pained, maybe even ill. She blinked at him. “Are you alright?” she asked, frowning. “Do you need me to heal something?”

“Fine,” he said, but the reply was too quick and his voice was a little strangled. “Um. Do you mean that? Owing me one?”

“Of course,” Katara said blankly,

“Could I… ask a favour, then?” he raised an eyebrow and his expression was hopeful. Katara gave a half shrug and a nod.

“Sure. What is it?”

He shook his head. “Not right now,” he told her, then frowned, “I think right now, I need a nap.”

Katara eyed him. “Are you _sure_ you don’t want me to heal you?” she asked. “I know where all the fountains are. There’s a really pretty one actually designed for bathing, but no one’s allowed in that chamber because we haven’t finished clearing the debris.”

Zuko thought about this, and he was tempted to refuse, but the idea of a proper healing session was enticing and he knew it would do a lot more than any nap. He also knew that Katara was probably not too eager to go back to the masquerade just yet. So he nodded, and said, “That sounds wonderful, actually. Lead the way.”

* * *

The old bathing chamber was as spiritually pure as the rest of the Temple, and that went for the water in the fountains, too. Katara stripped down to her sarashis, folding her silver tunic neatly and putting it down with her mask in one of the worn stone cubbies, then stepped into the shallow water. It was cool and as soon as it touched her skin, she let out an appreciative hum, feeling the power of the water.

Zuko watched her a moment, standing in his breeches, as he put his own robes and mask into another cubby. He felt strange, standing here without any regalia or armour. He could’ve almost passed for a normal nineteen-year-old—he almost felt like one. If not for the scars on his face and chest.

Katara tried very hard not to look at his chest; smooth skin and lean muscle, marred by an angry red star blossoming out over his heart. “I’ll give this place one thing,” she told him, “The water is amazing.”

Zuko peered into the baths. “It looks the same as any other water I’ve seen,” he said blankly. Katara looked up at him as if to say _seriously?_ and shook her head.

“It reminds me of the Spirit Oasis in the North Pole,” she said. “Not quite as strong, but it’s… clean. Spiritually.” She grinned at him. “C’mon, get in. Healing always works better if you’re submerged.”

He hesitated.

Katara raised an eyebrow. “What? Firebender afraid of a little water?” she teased, wiggling her fingers, and he scowled.

“No,” he said shortly, and climbed in pointedly. They sat crosslegged, facing each other. “Happy?” he asked, folding his arms obstinately.

“I’m not _un_happy,” she replied in a deadpan, and he scowled deeper. Katara chuckled, and for a moment it could’ve been two years ago, and they were bickering at one another, and the world was so very different—and so were they.

“Now, lie down,” she instructed, and Zuko obeyed. There was enough water that he floated a little, his face staying well above the water. Katara sat beside him and placed her hands above his chest, moving them up and down over his body. The water began to glow, and a sigh escaped Zuko’s lips as he felt the aches and pains of their fight—and other stressors besides—simply melt away.

She smiled at him. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Mm…” he agreed faintly. “I should get a waterbender healer at the Palace. This is _much_ better than poultices.”

“What do they give you poultices for? I thought all your fighting was done for you?”

“It is,” he agreed. “Mostly they’re for headaches. A lot of reading—late nights. They’re more annoying than anything else—I can’t concentrate.”

She nodded. “I get that,” she admitted, continuing to move her hands, but now making sure they covered his head, too. “Do you have a headache now?”

“No,” he replied, “More like a… everything-else-ache.” Katara gave a small laugh, and he smiled at the sound. It was good to know she was okay, after her and Aang. He wondered if she was maybe putting on a brave face—a relationship of almost two years had ended only hours before. But no, this seemed real. Either she was distracted or she’d been more unhappy than either of them had realised. Probably a bit of both.

He let his eyes slip shut for a few moments, enjoying the gentle coolness that spread through him as Katara did her healing work. He wished he could return the favour, but at best all he could do would be to turn the room into a sauna—which they’d already done whilst sparring.

Opening his eyes, a question in his mind, he stopped when he saw her. She was still sat crosslegged, brow furrowed in light concentration as she worked, and she seemed unaware of his gaze. She’d changed in the past two years, he realised. He’d noticed, of course, but now, when she was so close, and so… ‘casually dressed’, he was stunned by just how _much_.

As a fourteen-year-old, when they’d first met, she’d been pretty. All coltish limbs and a slender sweetness. Large blue eyes and thick dark curls, a feisty temper that was endearing as much as it was terrifying. Even at the end of the war, just before she’d returned to the South Pole, she’d been fifteen and a _little_ changed. Not just in her mind—seeing things as they’d seen didn’t leave a person unmarked—but in physique, too. The first hint of a woman’s curves, strength in new muscles. They had been given a glimpse of the woman she would grow to be, in body, heart and mind.

Now, at seventeen, they had more than a first glimpse. Coltish had become willowy, slender had become lush curves and lissom grace. Lean muscles lined her form—evidence of her mastery in bending—and the curve of her jaw, the tilt of her chin left no doubt that her temper was just as fierce. Only now, it was more admirable than endearing; no one would dare call such wrath ‘cute’ for fear of incurring it further. But she still had those sweet blue eyes, large and round with hope, blazing with determination.

He’d been staring too long, he realised, and looked away. Still, she didn’t appear to have noticed, and was still moving her hands.

“You’re very… comfortable,” he said in an awkward tone. She jumped slightly when he spoke; so engrossed in her work she’d almost forgotten he was there, even though she was healing him.

“And you’re very tense,” she replied, a note of concern in her voice. “Are you sure you’re alright, Zuko? Because you can tell me if you’re not.” That was the way between them, wasn’t it? Always insisting the other could talk to them, and occasionally indulging in that insistence.

“No, no, I’m fine,” he told her. “I just…” he hesitated. “I’ve never done this before.”

“What, had a full body healing session?”

“That too, but no. I meant the, uh… communal bathing,” he muttered for lack of a better term. He felt himself flush a little. “You’re very comfortable with this.”

“Oh.” Her tone was mild. “I guess I am. It’s not that surprising, really. When we were travelling, we all bathed together. It was in lakes and rivers… wasn’t like there were doors and cubicles for everyone. I just got used to it. It was a little different at the Western Temple—there were bathing rooms, but…” she trailed off, acutely aware that she was babbling again.

Zuko had the point, though. “I see…” he said. “I’ve… never done that.”

Katara looked at him. “Really?” she asked. “Never?”

He shrugged. “Never had the cause. When I was a kid, I had bathing chambers all to myself. Same as when I was on that ship. But I would train… like this…” he said lamely. “And in a formal Agni Kai, this is more or less the… uniform?” Could it be a uniform, when there was barely anything to wear? “But… that was different.”

“I get that,” she said. “Context is important.” For the first time in a while, she looked him in the eye; taking her eyes off her bending. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can stop.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “I’m getting used to it. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, anyway.”

An image of Zuko and Aang, both shirtless and working through a firebending set came unbidden into her mind. She flushed at the memory. “True,” she agreed, in a slightly tight voice. She hoped he didn’t notice. He did, but he decided not to comment, and they returned to silence until eventually she announced, “Alright, I think that should do it. How do you feel?”

Zuko pushed himself down below the surface of the water, completely submerging himself for a moment, then sat up, pushed his wet hair back, and rolled his shoulders experimentally. He smiled. “I feel great!” he exclaimed, looking down at his hands, flexing and unflexing them, only now realising how much stiffness he’d been carrying, whilst Katara tried not to focus on how the water was running off him, and how in the sunlight that streamed through the cracks in the ceiling, he sparkled, highlighting the curve of his jaw and the line of his collarbones.

And how they were both very nearly naked. Suddenly her offer of a healing session felt very foolish. She’d only wanted to help, but now she felt silly.

Zuko didn’t seem to notice though—or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. “Thanks, Katara,” he said, moving to sit crosslegged. She blinked at him, and he blinked back. There was a moment of silence. Then,

“Um… are you waiting for something?” she asked. They stared at each other a few seconds, then Zuko’s eyes went wide.

“Oh,” he said loudly. “Did you want me to—? Sorry, I’ll go. Sorry.” He made to stand up, but Katara caught his wrist.

“No, no,” she said, dropping his wrist as quickly as she spoke. “You can stay if you want. I just… figured you wouldn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the masquerade goes on all night,” she said, “It’s a huge party. Don’t you want to get back to it?”

“I do,” he agreed. “But not right now. I like being here, it’s peaceful.” He gave a smile that, if Katara hadn’t known better, she would’ve called shy. “I like being here with _you_.” He paused. “And… I’ve never seen a waterbender healing themselves. Mind if I watch?”

“Huh? Oh,” she muttered. “Um, _sure_, I guess, but it’s not really any different.”

“What’s it _like?_” he pressed, sitting cross-legged in front of her, his wonder somewhat childlike. It was comforting to see that he could still have wonder, she thought. He was so serious most of the time, so worn down by responsibility and expectations. “Healing yourself?”

“I…” Katara began, with no idea how to continue. “Well, it’s like waterbending, but… on the inside.”

Zuko’s expression darkened. “Not like—”

“_No!_” she said quickly, thinking of Hama and the Southern Raiders. “No, nothing like that. It’s gentle. It’s moving _with_ the natural flow of your body, not controlling it. Like… can you firebend? On the inside?”

“I can warm myself up,” he said blankly. I feel the heat course through me. Like blood—no, like… like my soul.”

“That’s what healing is like,” she said, “It’s my soul being repaired as much as my body.” With that, she closed her eyes and assumed a meditative stance, almost like Aang when he went into the spirit world. For a moment, her hands rested loosely on her knees, palms upwards, until she began to move them. Basic waterbending forms, Zuko recognised, and he was transfixed by a soft blue glow in her stomach, rising up into her heart, spreading out, down her limbs, to the tips of her fingers. When Katara opened her eyes, they almost seemed to glow blue a moment, but they were certainly brighter and more focussed than he’d seen all night.

“Wow, this water is really amazing,” she remarked. Zuko smiled at her.

“I don’t think it’s the water,” he said. “You’re pretty amazing, too, Katara. You shouldn’t forget that.”

She flushed slightly. “Uh… thanks, Zuko. You’re pretty amazing, too. I mean… I don’t think anyone else could’ve made me feel much better tonight than you did. Thanks.” She smiled at him, genuine and warm. He smiled back, because that was a smile he knew meant change for the better. She looked more sure of herself and more at peace than he’d seen in years, possibly ever.

“We should be getting back to the masquerade,” Katara then said, “I don’t want to miss the _whole_ thing—it _is_ a huge party.”

“You’re right,” Zuko agreed. They climbed out of the fountain and Katara bent the water out of their hair and clothes, drying them instantly. As they pulled on their robes and masks, they shared a private grin.

“Getting dressed up in masks, in secret, is this our thing, now?” Katara asked him. He chuckled.

“I guess it is. We’ve been doing it for years.” Separately _and_ together. Masks, it seemed, came naturally to them.

But maybe, he thought, less naturally to Katara, now that she was free to pursue what the mask had meant to her. Free to pursue the responsibility, the people who needed her help. Free to pursue her own wants and needs.


	15. Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second annual Peace Summit has drawn to a successful close, and Katara returns to the South Pole, single for the first time since the end of the Hundred Years' War. She has no issue in finding a place for herself outside of being the Avatar's girlfriend; after all, that was what she strove to do. But that doesn't mean all is well, and she still has uncertainties about some things. Or some_one_.

_To his esteemed majesty, King Kuei of the Earth Kingdom,_

_I was honoured and humbled by your personal request at the second Peace Summit that I might be invited to Ba Sing Se to help oversee some of the plans for the institution of a multicultural ‘hub’. If it please your esteemed majesty, I would like to visit some time at the end of the year, during the winter. Unfortunately, I will be busy at the Southern Water Tribe before then, as I have existing commitments and responsibilities as both the daughter of the Southern Water Tribe Chief and one of the teachers at the Kya Waterbending School._

_I thank your esteemed majesty for your patience, and once again for your offer._

_Sincerely,_

_Princess Katara of the Southern Water Tribe_

* * *

Katara looked at the letter she’d written and tried not to gag. It was overly flowery and formal, but that seemed to be the way of the Earth King—and indeed, the Earth Kingdom as a whole. It made them feel important, or whatever.

Two months had passed since the second Summit had concluded. She and Aang had parted on relatively amicable terms. They hadn’t exchanged letters since she’d left with Hakoda and returned to the South Pole, but if Sokka’s letters were to be believed, Aang was doing well and actually hardly noticed she was gone, sometimes.

Which, of course, just proved her point that staying with him would have been a huge mistake only resulting in _more_ heartbreak or—even worse—irreconcilable resentment.

In those two months, she felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Teaching the Southern Tribe’s few waterbenders (and a few visiting Northern Tribesmen) the Southern Waterbending style had been her primary focus, but she’d also had a heavy hand in helping her father discuss trade route alterations, particularly because Sokka’s plans for a larger port were well underway and gave no signs of slowing. She’d come to use her title of ‘Princess’ quite a bit, too, now that she wasn’t cooped up in an Air Nomad Temple all the time, corresponding with various dignitaries about what the Southern Tribe could offer the rest of the world, and what it would need in return. As well as fish, sea prunes and Southern Waterbending techniques (that could be applied to all kinds of bending, not just waterbending), the other Nations had expressed particular interest in Southern Tribe craftsmanship. There seemed to be no end to the requests for thick, warm parkas and glass beads. Katara had worn fairly simple beads her whole life, but being a war hero and princess had given her enough exposure that it seemed there was a multitude of young girls all over the world who wanted blue beads for their hair loopies.

“Katara?” That was Hakoda’s voice. A moment later, his silhouette appeared behind the blue curtain that sectioned off her room from the rest of their house. Chief Arnook had suggested Hakoda build a palace out of ice, like in the Northern Tribe, but Hakoda was adamant that the South’s more simple ways were here to stay, and the grandest building in the Tribe was the meeting hall. All of the huts had been rebuilt, obviously, replaced with sturdy ice structures with several rooms, but the builders themselves hadn’t been able to resist making the Chief’s house just a _little_ more luxurious, with beautiful patterns carved into the walls, larger rooms, and thicker walls to keep the heat in a bit better.

“I’m still here, Dad,” she said, and Hakoda swept the curtain aside and stepped into her room. He was smiling.

“Oh, good, I wondered if you’d already left for your class,” he said, “I just got a messenger hawk from Sokka.”

Katara raised an eyebrow. Usually, Sokka’s messages didn’t contain urgent things, they contained things that were discussed over dinner, often with a lot of laughter. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s just fine. He wanted me to tell you that Aang is moving to the Western Temple to begin restoring it, soon. Toph’s going along, too, and since they’ll be quite close to the Fire Nation, Sokka’s suggesting the six of you have a little reunion after midwinter.”

Katara frowned. “Gee, Dad, I don’t know. Won’t we be a bit busy here? I mean, Sokka’s go the port and Kyoshi, you’ve got the Tribe, I’ve got the Kya School—”

“Hey,” Hakoda raised his hands as though fending her off, “It was just his suggestion, If you don’t feel like you’ll be able to go, that’s up to you.” He paused. “Or, if you don’t _want_ to go, that’s also up to you.”

She scowled a little. “I’m not avoiding Aang, Dad,” she said, “Our—breakup. It was fine.”

Hakoda only shrugged. “I never said you were.” His eyes dropped to the scroll in her hand. She’d just sealed it with blue wax, stamped with the Southern Tribe’s crest. “Who’s that for?”

“King Kuei,” she replied truthfully. “He wants me to look over more paperwork about the colony restoration efforts,” she added, slightly less truthfully. She handed the scroll out to her father. “Could you get it delivered? I have to get to the school.”

* * *

_CRASH!_

The dropping of a large silver platter of food meant for the Council made everyone in the room jump, but Zuko was pleased to note that as the servants rushed to clean up the mess, none of them were trembling. Finally, after two years, they were starting to realise that a dropped platter didn’t mean a disfiguring burn, just a calm request to be more careful next time.

At first, the Council had been displeased at how ‘lax’ he was being with the servants. When one of them made a mistake, he calmly asked them to clean up whatever mess they’d caused and left it at that. Zuko had made the point that he would rather be loved than feared, and as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t being ‘lax’, it was just treating them like people. Then again, even _that_ was a revolutionary concept for some of the Council’s noblemen. He was considering seeing if he could revamp the Fire Nation’s noble classes; promote the families of those who had served him faithfully, who had fought against his family’s tyranny, and demote those who had conspired to assassinate him, or sought to depose him and put Azula on the throne instead.

His uncle had advised that that might be a step too far, seen as over stepping his bounds and possibly tipping the balance against him. There were already plenty who insisted he was trampling on ancient traditions and that would be exactly the sort of thing they would need to convince people to rise against him. And his top priority these days was avoiding a war—be it with another Nation or a civil war within the Fire Nation itself. _No more war._

“Could you bring another platter once you’re done?” Zuko asked in a gentler tone than his father would have ever used towards a servant, even a perfect one. “We’ll be here a while.”

The Council groaned, and he fixed them with a look that had gotten him quite far in the past two years. “I won’t let this Nation let its poorest and most vulnerable slide further down into poverty and neglect,” he said firmly, “If we have time to spend days deliberating on who might be a suitable wife for me, we have time to decide how to help those most in need.”

“If I may interject another point, regarding the wife situation, Fire Lord Zuko—” began one Councilmember.

“You may not,” Zuko said shortly. “Not until we’ve finished with _this_.” He gestured to the huge sheaf of paper before him. Since the war had ended and much of the capital city’s slums had been rebuilt, the people had better housing but less work. It raised the question of what they were going to do to earn a living. They were a proud people, those of the fire, and the idea of taking food and money when they were able to work for it did not sit well with them, even though it didn’t sit well with Zuko that one should have to _work_ in order to afford basic needs. “How do you propose we help the people in the city who have no work and no way of earning money?”

“How about we give them some money?” suggested one Councilmember. The others all turned to him wearily, but Zuko raised an eyebrow.

“The people won’t accept it outright, Councilman,” he said, “Everyone should have what they need to live, of course, but you of all people should know that pride is a river that runs right alongside honour.”

“I’m not saying we need to have them question their honour,” the Councilman said quickly, “But what if—what if we gave them the chance to do what they’d always wanted? Like your uncle, General Iroh, he opened a tea shop in Ba Sing Se because that was his dream. Everyone in the city has a dream like that. If we give them the money to start pursuing those dreams—”

“They can find work, improve the lives of others around them, and earn money to pay back whatever they wish,” Zuko finished, impressed. “An elegant solution, Councilman. Perhaps Caldera City will remake itself as a city of leisure and culture.” People opening up workshops, clothing stalls, cafes. People devoting their lives to what they wanted, _exactly_ like how his uncle had been able to open the Jasmine Dragon.

One of the other Councilmembers spluttered. “You expect us to solve the poverty crisis with—with _tea shops?_” he demanded, “Those people are unable to find work because they’re unwilling! Without a rigorous hand behind them, like in the factories for the war machines, they will spend the money and simply ask for more!”

“Do you truly have such a low opinion of your own people, Councilman?” Zuko asked, tone icy as a waterbender’s. “We are the servants of the people, and it is unwise to criticise one’s master, is it not? To question his honour.”

The Councilmember sat down, though he was almost literally steaming.

“It will solve some of the issue, I’m quite sure of that,” Zuko said, “Not everyone wants to open a tea shop, but it will alleviate some of the pressure on those hiring. As for those who don’t have those sorts of dreams, they’ll at least be able to find work as staff for the others until the Council can come up with something more permanent.”

“The houses have been rebuilt, but the schools still need improving,” said one Councilwoman. “And those schools will need teachers. Should we sponsor some people to study at the university of Ba Sing Se?”

“Scholarships!” said the Councilman who had suggested the tea shops. “And we can get the history of other Nations from the last hundred years!”

“What’s wrong with the history of _our_ Nation?” demanded another Councilwoman.

“I suggest you go ask the Avatar—last of the Air Nomads—that question, Councilwoman,” Zuko said calmly. She went quiet at once. He turned back to the other Councilwoman. “Another good idea. Having our teachers trained in more specific, high-level education will eventually lead to a higher level of education across the Nation. And if the schools need physically refurbishing, that’s more work for the people as well.”

The next few hours passed in much the same fashion, Councilmembers putting forward ideas to help improve quality of life, combat poverty and rebuild a Nation that had, for one hundred years, relied on war to fund and feed its people. By the time the sun was beginning to set, Zuko was exhausted, and adjourned the Council. Maybe they’d gotten enough done today that he could go to sleep now, instead of staying up halfway through the night, dealing with one problem after another.

Lying in his bed, the sheets silken and soft against his skin, he looked at the moon outside the window, thinking of how it glinted off the enamel of his Blue Spirit mask. He hadn’t gone out in a few weeks, but he’d been busy. Returning after a Summit was a busy time for the Fire Nation—putting into practice all the newly agreed upon trade deals, not to mention his and Kuei’s ‘project’.

Kuei had invited him to Ba Sing Se shortly after midwinter, for a ceremony commemorating the official start of the project, and so they could continue to oversee it together. He’d warmed up with Zuko a little in the past two years—no pun intended—and was now more angry on principle at how the Fire Nation had behaved, rather than angry at Zuko specifically. In fact, Zuko was confident he could find a strong ally and even a good friend in Kuei, if everything went according to plan.

Miles and miles away, gazing at that same moon, a young woman stood on the frozen coast of the Southern Water Tribe, a good distance away from the construction of the new port, practicing her waterbending.

She didn’t really need the practice, being a master, but coming out under the moonlight and putting her body through the familiar forms helped steady her mind, clear it of the thoughts and troubles in preparation for a new day. It was a comfort, to have this time to herself, and waterbending was a part of her. Be it as a teacher, a warrior, or a girl out on the tundra, she needed to waterbend like she needed to breathe.

Of course, living at the Air Temple hadn’t really allowed for that. Another reason why she’d felt so choked there. Here, with the ocean, the ice, she felt powerful—invincible. And she probably was.

Sending a waterwhip striking against a spike of ice, she watched it shatter and was reminded of how a rotten beam in the Fire Nation had done that, too, as she and Zuko had been patrolling as Blue Spirits. He’d invited her to come out with him again, she remembered. He seemed to miss her companionship, fighting alongside her. It was true they fought well together, complimented each other, but somehow it went deeper than that.

_No_. She pushed the thoughts aside and sent another whip out, splitting apart another ice spike. Strange thoughts about Zuko had been wheedling away in her mind ever since she’d spoken to Toph at the Summit. It was just her planting thoughts, of course, they had no real basis, but they were annoying all the same.

_I need you_.

The memory came out of nowhere, hitting her with the force of a rock, almost knocking her to her knees. That didn’t mean anything. They’d been frantic from the high of winning the war, of being free and safe for the first time in their lives. She’d been scared he was going to die, relieved he would be okay. It hadn’t meant anything.

_Believe me._

“No!” she cried, out loud, waving her arms as if trying to slam a door behind her. The elegant waterforms at once turned into motionless, harmless waterdroplets and rained down on her. “It didn’t mean anything,” she muttered, “It was just—we were just—it was stupid.”

Maybe it was because she was no longer with Aang that her mind let her think these thoughts. Maybe it was because that was how she expected to feel with Aang, but hadn’t, that she was so scared. There were a million reasons why she couldn’t—_didn’t_—think that way about Zuko.

Why did they always come to her here? When it was quiet and still and the night could be so perfect? Why did those horrible, complicating thoughts have to come in and ruin everything.

And another one crept into her mind, not a new thought, but a very familiar one. One that had come to mind over and over ever since she’d returned to the Southern Tribe. Without a boyfriend, with an ache in her bones for the power and freedom the Blue Spirit mask had given her, with the possibility to actually seize it for real.

With the question of whether the mask was the only thing she wanted.

If she had been free, that night in the alley, at the end of the first Summit… would she have let him kiss her? Would she have kissed him back? Would she have twined her arms around his neck, pushed herself against him and felt every contour of his torso against hers as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him? Would he have run his fingers through her wet hair, sealed his lips over her pulse point?

She shook herself—physically shook her head. _It doesn’t matter_, she thought, dropping to her knees and digging her hands into the snow, feeling the ice bite at her skin, grounding her in what was real. That day was long-since passed, and there was no changing the past, and she didn’t even _think_ of Zuko in that way, so it was all a moot point. It didn’t _matter!_

But still that tiny question persisted.

_Would you?_

* * *

Days came and went, melting into weeks and months, until midwinter had arrived and, at the end of the Long Night—the period of about a month where the South Pole saw no daylight at all—the Midnight Festival was held.

A huge three-day-long party in which the entire Southern Tribe was covered in lanterns, making it glow in the darkness, helping the South Pole dawn into a new light, a new year. Games were played, songs were sung, a huge feast to commemorate another year passed, another darkness braved and conquered. The Midnight Festival had been Katara’s favourite holiday as a child and now that she could see her home being restored to its former glory, she loved it more than ever.

Sokka and Suki came south for the Festival, of course, and Katara was stunned to realise that Suki had never attended before. The previous few years, she’d always been off on some mission with the Kyoshi warriors or otherwise occupied. As it happened, Kyoshi didn’t put much emphasis on winter festivals anyway, preferring instead to celebrate their day of independence and Kyoshi’s birthday as their most prominent holidays.

But now that she was experiencing the Midnight Festival for the first time, Suki was quite literally awed. The small stalls offering games or hot food had her dragging Sokka by the arm up and down the festival area several times.

But this was also a particularly special Midnight Festival because, for the first time anyone could remember, it would feature a waterbending display at the grand feast on the final ‘night’ (or, what would’ve been the final night, but a three day festival was hard to gauge with no ‘days’). First the classes at the Kya School would each give a small group presentation, gradually going up the difficulty levels, culminating in a display from Master Pakku and, finally, the Southern Princess herself.

The water flowed through the air as though it were an extension of her body—no, her _soul_. Will made manifest, her thoughts becoming tangible and real. The crowd cheered and cried out as she executed an elaborate dance; flurries of snow, shards of ice, swirls of water and mist. To have their attention utterly, to know they were watching _her_, not because she was the Avatar’s friend, but because she was Master Katara, it was quite possibly the best feeling in the world.

But some small part of her was angry for that, disgusted that she was pleased at what she’d done to Aang. She’d never meant to hurt him, never wanted to hurt him, but she had. Maybe if she’d acted quicker, all of this pain could have been avoided.

But she already knew, there was no changing the past.

* * *

_This message comes to you from the personal desk of the Earth King, written by his own esteemed hand._

_Dear Princess Katara,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. According to my emissaries to the Southern Tribe, the Long Night is over, and the Midnight Festival was a rousing success. I understand your performance at the feast was quite a sight to behold. Perhaps you would indulge us the pleasure of such a spectacle when you come to visit?_

_At any rate, Bosco and I eagerly await your arrival. To know that the colony reformations are but a few weeks away is truly thrilling. Having you there as our neutral party will make everything go smoothly, I’m sure, if your track record at the previous two Summits is any indication._

_I send this message ahead of the private ship I have sent to fetch you. On the ship, as it will be at the Palace, my servants are your servants. Anything you desire shall be procured for you, any problem you experience shall be handled._

_I wish you a safe and happy journey,_

_Sincerely,_

_His Esteemed Majesty, King Kuei of the Earth Kingdom._

* * *

“A personal ship, huh? Fancy!” Sokka remarked as he set about restringing his bow. Since the Long Night had ended a few days prior, he’d been desperate to go on a hunt before all the hibernating animals woke up and moved too far into the wilderness to be worth hunting. It was one thing to track the animal and bring it down, but quite another to drag the carcass home several miles.

“Well, he _is_ the Earth King,” Katara remarked, looking over the letter again.

“And you’ll be staying in the Palace, as his personal guest!” Sokka crowed.

“I’m an _ambassador of the Water Tribe_, Sokka,” she said impatiently, “I’m not going there for a holiday. Dad’s already given me a list as long as my arm on what I should ask Kuei about the new trade routes.”

“Ambassador, Princess, guest—the bottom line is _you_ have a personal invitation to the _Earth King’s Palace at Ba Sing Se!_” Sokka cackled, genuinely pleased for his sister, but also finding something about the situation inexplicably hilarious—he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe because the last time they’d been in the Earth King’s Palace, it had been because they were trying to convince King Kuei the war was actually real.

“So,” Suki said loudly, over Sokka’s laughing, “When do you leave?”

Katara glanced at the letter. “It doesn’t say specifically—how long does an Earth Kingdom ship take to reach the South Pole?”

Suki gave a shrug. “Kyoshi doesn’t really do ships, you’re better off asking Hakoda—he’s trading with the Earth Kingdom, after all.”

“It’s, like, four days,” Sokka told them, making both girls turn to stare at him. He stared back. “What? I help with the trade routes, too—I practically _designed_ the new port! Earth Kingdom ships are pretty speedy, especially now they can be fitted with Fire Nation engines. Not as quick as waterbending ships, _sure_, but…” As Sokka continued now mostly mumbling to himself, Suki rolled her eyes and turned to Katara.

“So…” she said, cheeky. “Looking forward to going north?”

“I am,” Katara replied, very deliberately not paying attention to Suki’s tone. “I haven’t been to the Earth Kingdom since the war ended, and I can’t wait to see what Kuei’s come up with.”

“And Zuko,” Suki reminded her, “It was his idea.”

“It was,” Katara agreed, her voice odd. Even weeks later, that question niggled at the back of her mind, that doubt. _Would you?_ “And him and Kuei have been working hard for months. I can’t wait to see the results.” She smiled. “This is a new era of peace, Suki. I think this project is going to be the first of many. Of _course_ I’m looking forward to seeing it.”

“You could tell your face, then,” Suki said, “You don’t _look_ excited—in fact, if I had to pick a word, I’d say _worried_.”

“I’m fine,” Katara said shortly. “I just… it’s a lot to _do_, you know? I have to—to _pack_, and find all those papers from the Summit about what suggestions were made.” She frowned, getting to her feet. “I should get _moving!_”

“Katara.” Suki reached out, catching her by the shoulder. Sokka had wandered off at this point, still muttering about plans for the port as he finished restringing his bow. “You’re avoiding the subject. Is…” She hesitated. “Is this about Aang?”

“What? _No!_” Katara glowered at her. “Me and Aang… we’re _fine_. He’s fine. He knows it was the right decision, ending things. And…” She swallowed, sighed. “I guess I’m still getting used to… to not having him around. To not having to take into account what he’ll think of something.”

Suki looked her up and down. “If you were worried about what he would think about every little thing… it really _is_ good for you guys that you called it quits when you did. You don’t need his approval, Katara—you don’t need anyone’s. It’s not the same as someone’s opinion mattering to you—you… you can _care_, but it shouldn’t necessarily _limit_ you. You can’t live your life being worried about what someone else will think. And I think Aang would really love that you’re doing this.”

Katara’s eyes widened. “You think so?”

“Of course! He’s the avatar! It’s his job to keep balance, and something like this, trying to get the Four Nations to live so closely? That’s _exactly_ the sort of thing he would like.”

“I… I guess you’re right,” Katara smiled, the weight on her chest easing slightly. She got to her feet and, flashing Suki a smile, added, “I’ve still got to get ready, though. If I’m going to Ba Sing Se to see the Earth King, I’ll need to be in full—” She made a face. “—_Watertribe Princess_ mode.”

Suki laughed. “The prices you pay—dressing up in fancy clothes and eating wonderful food for the sake of international peace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How would yous feel if there were some... ~_spicier_~ scenes? Obviously I still have my story plan, but y'know if these guys are young adults I feel like there's quite a lot of fun to be had with that.


	16. Worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara makes her journey to Ba Sing Se at the personal request of King Kuei. Though excited, she's troubled about how vital it is that things go well, and about who she's going to be spending time with whilst there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hannukah, Feliz Navidad and Bonne Annee! Exams and work were hectic, so alas I didn't have time to finish this chapter for Friday, so especially for this very first day of the new decade I'm breaking my post-on-Fridays rule!

When the huge ship pulled into the port it dwarfed every Water Tribe vessel without even trying. Sails as large as tents hung from the masts, the circular Earth Kingdom insigna on a field of deep green billowing in the wind, an elaborate golden statue of a beautiful woman clinging to the bow, chin raised high as if indulging in the salty spray of the sea.

Hakoda waited on the shore, a handful of Tribesmen behind him purely for the sake of appearances. He wore the heavy chain around his neck that marked him Chief. Like a larger version of a betrothal necklace, it was a blue stone carved with a highly intricate version of the Southern Water Tribe crest, as big as his hand. Slightly in front was Katara, wearing new beads on her loopies, her nicest parka and a sealskin bag slung over her shoulder containing a few more outfits—namely formal robes—that she would need during her stay.

Hakoda glanced at her. “Do you have—”

“If you’re going to ask me _do I have the list_ one more time, I’m going to freeze your feet to the floor,” she said flatly, “I’ve checked ten times, Dad, I have your list!”

“Alright, alright,” Hakoda sighed, his tone suggesting, _ugh,_ _teenagers_.

The ship dropped anchor and the gangplank was lowered. Even from here, Katara could hear the shouts of the crew, bellowing to one another about sails and ropes. Someone approached the top of the gangplant, calling up something that quieted all the others, and as they approached Katara realised it was a woman—quite possible the tallest and most muscular woman Katara had ever seen. She had the pale skin of the Earth Kingdom, a single ornament adorning her long braid of silky dark hair (which was pretty plain by Earth Kingdom standards), a large three-point hat on her head with a huge multicoloured feather stuck in it and a long, curving sword at her belt.

“Chief Hakoda of the Southern Tribe!” she boomed, “Princess Katara. I am Captain Nakai of His Esteemed Majesty’s personal royal ship: _The Lady Tienhai!_” Katara supposed that was who the golden statue on the ship’s bow was meant to resemble. “It is a great honour to make your acquaintances,” Nakai continued, coming to stand before them and sinking into a deep bow, the feather in her had fluttering. Hakoda and Katara, along with Hakoda’s ‘honourguard’ bowed back.

“Likewise,” Katara said, “I’m flattered that His Esteemed Majesty would send his personal ship as my passage, and I look forward to thanking him in person.”

“Your manners are as captivating as your beauty, young Master,” Nakai said, “Clearly, His Majesty has not exaggerated tales of your kindness.”

Katara blinked at that. Kuei told _stories_ about her? She wondered what sort of stories they were, what details they included. Had her stint as the Painted Lady become common knowledge? Her duelling Pakku in the Northern Tribe?

“Thank you,” was what she said aloud, “I’m pleased to see I’ll be in such good hands on my way to the Earth Kingdom.” All this political navigation still felt a little stiff, but over time it had become a little more natural-feeling, and it helped that most of the time, the people she was talking to already liked her. They didn’t see her as a peasant who’d helped usurp the rightful Fire Lord.

“Well, then, I welcome you aboard, Princess Katara!” Nakai declared, stepping aside and bowing low once again. “And I assure you, Chief Hakoda, your daughter will be in the best of care whilst she is upon my ship. I and my entire crew are ready to lay down our lives, should it come to it.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” Hakoda replied, smiling, “If a waterbending master can’t defend herself on a ship in the middle of the ocean, I fear for our future.”

“_Dad!_” Katara exclaimed, unable to stop herself, nor keep the whining tone from her voice. This only made Hakoda laugh.

“Have fun, sweetie,” he called, waving, “I’ll see you in a few weeks! Good luck!”

“Thanks!” she called back above the roar of the waves. _I think I’m going to need it…_

* * *

"The tides are in our favour. We will be at sea for three days, Master Katara,” Captain Nakai explained, “And if the tides change their mind… well, we have you, don’t we?” She grinned and nudged Katara, who managed a smile in response.

“Teaching waterbenders how to increase the flow of a tide is one of the first moves we teach them at the Kya School,” she said, “We show them how to use the natural flow of the world around them, not to work against it.”

“Perhaps you could teach some of my crewmembers that philosophy,” Nakai chuckled, “You would think them the Mad Princess for how they talk about overcoming the sea—as if a mere mortal man could contest the water. We are insignificant creatures on her mighty back, ants before a god!”

Katara laughed at the Captain’s dramatics, but inwardly felt something unpleasant twist her gut. She hadn’t thought about Azula in a long time, but now that she did… what had become of Zuko’s little sister? She hadn’t seen her at either Summit, hadn’t even heard anyone speak about her—apart from when Zuko had been talking of those who sought to usurp him and crown her Fire Lord in his place.

She remembered the terrifying powerhouse that had been able to bend fire with an ease and skill that rivalled that of the dragons, the young woman so driven and precise that she could command the skies themselves and rain down lightning. She remembered the haughty princess that had taunted her brother when beguiled by the power of a crown, the cruel brat that had tormented and almost killed her own brother.

She remembered the broken girl, screaming and weeping as her entire world collapsed around her. She remembered that the story of the Mad Princess was not one of triumph—of the Fire Lord overcoming an adversary, a Master Waterbender besting a Master Firebender—but of tragedy.

With this in mind, Katara resolved to ask Zuko how Azula was doing. She bore no love for the girl who had almost killed her, almost killed one of her best friends, _actually_ killed Aang. But, now that she’d been reminded, she couldn’t get the image of Azula sobbing out of her head. Was that something that could have happened to her? If her father had let the war turn him angry instead of kind? If there had been someone like Hama around to teach her to waterbend as a child?

At the thought of Hama, she shivered, even though she’d grown up in this cold, and her parka was as thick and warm as ever. Captain Nakai eyed her.

“Are you alright, Master Katara?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Katara replied, “Just… tired. I want to be well-rested when I receive his esteemed majesty. We—we’ll have lots to discuss.”

The Captain nodded, then turned her head over her shoulder and barked something. A crewmember then appeared, seemingly from nowhere.

“Allow me to show you to your quarters, Princess,” he said, “His esteemed majesty insisted the royal cabin be prepared for you.”

Katara blinked. “I… oh. Well, thank you.”

The crewmember was obviously a little taken aback at being thanked, and stared at her for a moment before his brain seemed to kick back in. “You—you are most welcome!” he exclaimed, “Most welcome indeed, Princess! Anything you require, please don’t hesitate to summon me, or—or any member of the crew! We’re at your disposal!”

“That’s alright,” Katara said gently, vaguely uncomfortable at all the bowing and scraping, but she honestly didn’t think it was meant to be mocking. “As for right now, I think I just want some rest.” Somehow, all of the planning of this visit, even though Kuei had practically taken care of everything, had left her exhausted. Her _brain_ was tired, not her body, and she just needed a moment to sit and think about something other than her father’s list and Kuei and Zuko’s pet project and… Zuko.

“Of course,” said the crewmember, “This the royal cabin right here—and this is the key—” He handed her an ornate key that must have been solid gold for how heavily it sat in her palm. “—and I will leave you to your thoughts.”

Katara nodded her thanks, too distracted to form words right now, and pushed the key into the lock. As the door swung open, she let out a gasp at the sight of the room.

She’d been on ships before, practically grown up on them, but this was something else. The luxury of it all—the diaphanous curtains of every colour, allowing precisely as much or as little light in through the circular windows as she pleased; the mountain of plush pillows on an even plusher bed; the ornate carving of the Earth Kingdom sigil into the wall above the bed; the intricately embroidered tapestry opposite, telling the story of how Ba Sing Se had resisted the Seige of the Dragon of the West.

Katara seen the Fire Lord’s personal, private chambers, but in comparison to this room they seemed sparse and drab. Even the most lavish rooms in the Palace had seemed primarily functional, nothing extra there, no ornaments, only furniture and a few wall decorations. There were so many _things_ in this room, so many objects that didn’t really have a use. A row of tiny statues, a case of scrolls, a shelf overflowing with books, even a box of jewellery that—according to a note from Nakai—Kuei had insisted she use at her own indulgence; each piece had been crafted especially for her.

Snapping the jewellery box shut abruptly, Katara sat back on the bed, exclaiming quietly at how soft it was, but feeling a little sick. It wasn’t seasickness—she’d never been seasick in her life—it was the simple _opulence_ of this. She was only visiting for two weeks, and Kuei had had a box of jewellery crafted for her? Gold and silver and jewels for her fingers and wrists and neck and hair and spirits knew what else—her ears, her navel? She’d grown up in the Southern Water Tribe, where life hadn’t necessarily been hard and miserable but there wasn’t anything like this; things for the sake of things. Kuei was such a different man, and only part of it was due to his position, she knew. She’d seen stalls for things in Ba Sing Se, seen peoples’ homes adorned with objects that seemed to just sit there and look nice, seen the elaborate hair ornaments upper class and even middle class women wove into their hair.

Why was it only now hitting her how different the Earth Kingdom was to the Water Tribe? Maybe because the last time she’d been there, she’d been basking in the relief of the war ending. The Fire Nation had always seemed different because it had been the invader, the warmonger, and she and Sokka and the others had all fought against it. The Air Nomads, well, they were almost extinct, but she’d had two years to become _very_ aware that Water Tribe ways and Air Nomad ways were very different. The Earth Kingdom, well, it was its own culture, too.

Swallowing, a terrible thought entered her head. What if… what if they were _too_ different? What if culture and war had combined to make this integration project… _impossible?_ What if Kuei and Zuko were working towards something that couldn’t be done?

No. _No_. That wasn’t the case. No one was more eager than Zuko to live harmoniously, and the whole reason the project had been suggested was because people had _already_ integrated—the colonies producing mixed-Nation families, harmonious coexistence, combining cultures.

“You’re worrying over nothing,” she told herself. But she’d been doing that a lot lately. Something was pulling at her mind, making her stress and freak out, and it was bleeding into every other aspect of her life.

_You know what it is. Just say it. Say it and everything will be easier._

_No, no it won’t. Say it and everything will become infinitely more complicated. I’ve caused enough trouble for my friends, enough hurt. I won’t hurt them more._

Easier said than done.

But easier thought than said.

* * *

The calm tides made the boat rock gently as it traversed the Southern Sea, lulling Katara into easy sleep as it headed northwest towards the Earth Kingdom. She slept deeply and peacefully, not even dreaming, and the next day she looked over Kuei’s letters to make sure she knew exactly what was supposed to happen. According to Nakai, they would be at sea for two more days before pulling into its main port. According to Kuei’s letters, a procession would meet her at the port and escort her to the actual city, and her escort was someone named Lao.

“Ugh!” Nakai exclaimed when Katara told her this. “If that’s the same Lao I’m thinking of, I pity you, Master Katara. In all my years as Captain, I’ve found no member of the royal court to be half as _boring_.”

Katara suppressed a laugh. “Oh?”

“_So_ boring!” Nakai cried, “I can appreciate a good talk about politics now and then, but the man is _obsessed_ with economics! I know it’s important to how the Earth Kingdom functions, but really, shouldn’t he save that talk for the Currency Minister instead of his esteemed majesty’s guests? Honestly, I swear I almost threw him overboard the last time his esteemed majesty decided to bring him along.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Katara remarked, smiling into her breakfast. Half a world away, a Fire Nation ship—with almost as much grandeur as _The Lady Tienhai_—was departing the Ember Port. It had taken a lot of insisting and wearing down and almost _begging_ to get the Council to agree to send a small, quiet ship—or as much as could be done in the Fire Lord’s personal fleet.

Almost, but not quite, he _was_ still the Fire Lord, and with such a title came a certain expected level of opulence. The ship was a sleek thing, metal painted jet black, enormous Fire Nation emblems flanking the bow, a huge engine aided by an equally huge sail depicting a golden emblem on a field of scarlet. There was no mistaking which Nation it came from, but the presence of a sail, as well as highlighting that it was a leisure ship, but also that, in relying partially on the natural forces of the wind, it was a symbol of the Fire Nation trying to return to its more peaceful past.

The past few days had worn on him, preparing for his meeting with Kuei, to really make a start on their project. He was both excited and terrified—much like before the first Summit. Things had to go right, they had to go well, because it was his project, his solution to the colonies. If it didn’t work, Kuei might order the Fire Nation to withdraw entirely, or the families in the colonies would rebel against both the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom in order to stay together, sparking—possibly—a three-way civil war.

He felt sick just thinking about it.

And more besides. His headaches had gotten worse over the past few days; just like before the Summits, his stress and workload had come to plague him particularly. What little sleep he’d managed to steal in between running the Fire Nation and preparing for his visit had been feverish, his dreams—_nightmares_—strewn with his worst fears comes to life. If he had any luck (which was highly debatable at this point) he would have a day or just an afternoon free to stop by the Jasmine Dragon and speak with his uncle, share a cup of tea.

He grimaced as another wave of pain throbbed through his temples, and rubbed the spot with two fingers. A cup of tea would do particularly nicely right about now.

“My Lord?” said a passing servant, “Should I send for a poultice?”

“That’s alright, Han,” Zuko sighed, rubbing his temples more forcefully, “I think I’ll retire. Not much I can do whilst we’re at sea.” He thanked Agni that he’d never been seasick whilst in exile as his thoughts drifted to the second Summit a few months ago, to the closing masquerade, to the healing session Katara had given him. Those few brief minutes in the water had brought him more peace than a thousand poultices.

Of course… that may not have been entirely due to the healing session. Swallowing hard, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Please,” he said, “Leave me. I’ll ring if I need anything.”

Han nodded and excused himself, sliding shut the door to Zuko’s chambers, signalling to all servants and crew that he wasn’t to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. Pulling back the curtains from the porthole window, he looked up at the moon, wishing he could feel the wind through his hair, breath warm behind a mask, swords heavy in his hands.

He really would have to go out again once he got back. The Blue Spirit had a presence in Caldera City, and keeping him a constant there did as much to ward away would-be criminals as his actual going to terrify them. It had been too long, and he was determined never to let greed and corruption take hold in the Fire Nation ever again. He would burn it, rip it out root-and-stem, single-handedly if that was what it took.

Another throb at his temples made him groan, and he forced himself to try and relax. Stressing over things he couldn’t change right now would only make his migraines worse, he knew, but it was hard to leave well alone—he’d never been good at letting go of things.

Settling down into his bed, his muscles practically sighed in appreciation of the rest, as if they knew the coming days would offer little opportunity. Lying on his side, he gazed at the moon, as he often did when he settled down to sleep. More often than not, he worked into the dead of night, sometimes even through it. He’d become oddly acquainted with the moon for a firebender.

His eyelids began to droop almost immediately, his mind not calm but exhausted. He needed his rest if he was to be of any use to Kuei, if he was to make sure those dual-Nation families would be content without sparking tensions in the Earth Kingdom at the idea of their land being taken and Fire Nation citizens remaining there. Forcing himself to think of something else—_anything_ else, anything other than the political mission he was headed to—his thoughts drifted back to the moon, and then to the south.

Kuei had told him he’d like Katara to help oversee the project, as a neutral party and someone Kuei knew would oppose Zuko if he was in the wrong. The idea of seeing Katara again… he was excited, of course, but something didn’t quite sit right.

He knew what that was, of course. He remembered berating himself at the last Summit, wistfully trailing after a young woman who had made clear she didn’t want him. Sure, she might have left Aang, but that didn’t mean she chose him. And, now more than ever, these feelings—these insignificant feelings, it meant nothing, it had to mean nothing—were a nuisance. He couldn’t do that to Aang.

It was loneliness, he reasoned. He and Katara had always understood one another a little differently compared to the others. The Caves under Ba Sing Se, the Southern Raiders, how they’d been willing to die for one another during Sozin’s Comet. He missed the unique companionship of their group of friends, of the person who’d seen the best in him long before anyone else had—well, except for his uncle. He missed fighting alongside her, as a bender or a spirit. He missed those funny talks they would have—somehow ending up so deep and personal without even trying, like at the first masquerade, or their healing session, or the alleyway.

_Don’t go down that road_, he warned himself. _Down that road lies only madness._

Whatever he did or didn’t feel for Katara, it didn’t matter. He was going to Ba Sing Se for a political mission, Katara was helping. They were friends, and she was the former girlfriend of another friend of his, and she would never feel the same way.

How could she? They might have reconciled their differences, but he was still Fire Nation, still the son of the man who had ordered her killed for being a waterbender, the brother of the girl who had tried to kill her multiple times. Katara didn’t hold those things against him, but she could never love him the way she’d loved Aang, and he could never love her like that, either. He just _couldn’t_.

It was loneliness, he reasoned. He missed the companionship of their ragtag group of friends, he missed the simplicity of just having to defeat his father and then everything would be okay. It had been years since he’d thought of the Fire Nation as his home, longer still since he’d thought of it as a happy home. He was only just beginning to think of the Palace as his place, his home. After so many years at sea, on the run, with only his uncle by his side, it was difficult to readjust.

Sometimes, in these weaker moments of his, when he was tired, he wondered if the Council were so wrong about him marrying. It was true he would need a Fire Lady, need to consolidate his own dynasty with marriage and, eventually, children. He’d thought, for a time, that Mai was the one to do that. He’d loved her, and she’d loved him, but she hadn’t wanted the crown, the duties, the life. She would have done it, but she hadn’t wanted it. Not like a Fire Lady would have to. Between that and how much they’d fought, it had become clear a few months after the end of the war that they were not meant to be. But the idea of having someone with whom he could share all of this; his responsibilities, his fears, his elation at having the power to change things…

It was loneliness, he reasoned.

* * *

As both ships grew closer to the Earth Kingdom port, the weather grew hotter and Katara shed her heavy parkas in favour of lighter tunics. Since she was technically on a diplomatic mission as a princess of the Southern Water Tribe, these tunics were much fancier than the ones she’d worn whilst she, Sokka and Aang had been travelling the world two summers prior. In some ways, she was reminded of what Princess Yue had worn. Detailed silver stitching on the white hems, a deeper neckline more fitting of a ‘noblewoman’ and ‘young woman’ with a white undertunic and more embroidery—also white—showing the Southern Tribe’s crest. Her boots now came almost to her knees, the sleeves of her tunic down to her wrists, and she more frequently wore her hair loose. As always, she wore her mother’s necklace, the carved stone gleaming at her throat.

She was expected to wear gloves for much of her time in the Earth Kingdom, regardless of climate, because of her status, but neither she nor her father cared for that particularly, and she was sure Kuei wouldn’t press it. Besides, she’d always found waterbending more difficult when wearing gloves. Even though these ones were thinner than her thick, penguinsealskin mittens, and had individual fingers, barehanded bending—or in Toph’s case, barefooted—was the preference of pretty much any bender who knew what they were doing.

“Master Katara,” Captain Nakai said on the third morning, as Katara was practicing her forms. “We are making excellent time, and should arrive at the port by this evening! His esteemed majesty has arranged for you to stay the night at his personal costal residence on Diqiu Beach!”

“Stay the… night?” Katara repeated, “Why?”

“His esteemed majesty would not wish to exhaust you further by having you travel all through the night, only to be received in the early morning for a full day of political work,” Nakai explained. “He wishes for you to be refreshed and to arrive in the afternoon or early evening. It is the opinion of his esteemed majesty that the best way to receive an honoured guest is with a large meal and good conversation to plan the coming days.”

“I see…” Katara murmured, “Well, in that case, I’m honoured by Ku—by his esteemed majesty’s continuing hospitality.”

Nakai grinned. “Wait until you see the costal palace,” she said, “His esteemed majesty has exquisite taste.”

At the words ‘costal palace’, Katara balked. If this is what Kuei’s _ship_ look like, she almost dreaded finding out what his holiday home looked like. Even Zuko’s on Ember Island—the Fire Nation was distinctly less opulent than the Earth Kingdom, and the house had been dilapidated—had been a near-uncomfortable level of luxurious. Between the restoration efforts at the South Pole and her friendship with the Fire Lord, she’d become used to a more lavish style of living since the war had ended, but the Earth King was on an entirely new level.

Sure enough, when _The Lady Tienhai_ made landfall on Diqiu Beach, Katara could see the costal palace from the port. The head servant at the costal palace insisted she sit down and rest whilst he brought her tea—imported from the Jasmine Dragon in Ba Sing Se, _of course_. Apparently the Jasmine Dragon had become his esteemed majesty’s favourite venue for tea drinking. As she waited on the tea, Katara looked around. The palace _was_ exquisite, but sitting on the plush sofas, surrounded by jewels and furs, she felt like as much of an outsider as she had when she’d first come to the Earth Kingdom two-and-a-half years prior.

“Here you go, Master Katara,” said the head servant, entering with a tray and passing her a small cup. “General Iroh sends his compliments and hopes you will grace him with a visit whilst his esteemed majesty is hosting you.”

“He does?” Katara replied, taking the cup. She could smell the tea and instantly recognised the unusual flavour. This was the sea prune inspired tea from Iroh’s ‘Water Tribe’ tea set, one she’d become quite partial to, actually. She’d have to tell Iroh that if she got a chance to see him.

“Of course,” came another voice, and Katara froze. “Uncle loves you.”

Turning, she was of course not surprised to see Zuko standing there, a pair of Earth Kingdom servants flanking him. In his formal robes and crown, he looked formidable and… good. He looked good.

“Zuko!” she exclaimed, rising to her feet and giving him a hug. She felt the servants around them tense, but given how Zuko hugged her back, he didn’t seem to care any more than she did. Breaking apart, they grinned at each other, but before they could speak, the head servant cried out.

“F-Fire Lord Zuko!” he said, bowing deeply. “I—your arrival was not announced! Forgive us that we didn’t greet you properly!”

“It’s quite alright,” Zuko assured him, waving a hand calmly. “We didn’t expect to arrive until tomorrow morning. It was our original plan to travel straight to Ba Sing Se when we docked, but Captain Nakai informed us that his esteemed majesty has offered up his summer palace as lodging for myself and Master Katara?”

“That is correct, Fire Lord,” the head servant replied, “Would it suit you both to take the same procession tomorrow morning? We had—we had only arranged for the one tomorrow.”

Zuko and Katara exchanged a look, and shrugged. “Fine by me,” Katara said, “I wouldn’t mind the extra time to discuss the colony plans.”

The head servant nodded. “Very well. I will instruct the staff to prepare an extra room. Forgive me, we hadn’t anticipated your early arrival.”

“Don’t worry, really,” Zuko insisted, “Could I possibly have a pot of tea whilst I wait?”

“Of course!” the head servant answered, “Would you like to sit in the other tea room or stay here with Master Katara? The stresses of long-distance travel can be exhausting, would you two perhaps like some time alone to rest and gather your strength for the coming days?”

“Don’t make extra work for yourselves, I’m fine here. I’d actually appreciate a little casual conversation,” Zuko said, then looked at Katara, “If that’s okay with you.”

“Sure,” Katara shrugged, smiling. So, the servants brought another pot of tea (jasmine, not the sea prune stuff that Zuko, try as he might, just couldn’t stomach) and the two sat there, drinking tea and talking idly.

“Are you nervous about the talks?” Katara asked, taking a sip from her cup to try and hide her wry smile.

Zuko noticed the smile and raised an eyebrow. “A little,” he said honestly, “But it’s been two years, Kuei seems to understand I really want to help. My bigger concern is the people _in_ the colonies. Some want the Fire Nation totally gone, they see us as violent oppressors—and we were, I’m not disputing that,” he added quickly. “But… others have Fire Nation _and_ Earth Kingdom cultures, and see them as very key to who they are. Staying or leaving is going to hurt _some_ people. And this project… some people think it’s stealing Earth Kingdom land, just like when the Fire Nation was at war and—” He broke off, sighed deeply and took a sip of tea. “I’m stressed,” he admitted tiredly.

Katara smiled. “You’ve brought relative peace to the Fire Nation and already survived two Summits,” she said, “You _can_ relax a little Zuko, what you’re doing is _working_. Your ideas are _good_. And no one—_no one_—wants the Four Nations to go to war again. At least, not in the colonies,” she added, biting her lip, because she knew there were still those in the Fire Nation who saw Azula as the true heir and the Fire Nation’s surrender as the height of shame.

Zuko gave a weary smile. “I’m really glad you agreed to come, Katara,” he said, “I… I could use someone to keep me grounded.

Katara chuckled. “You say that like it’s a new thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO much for your lovely comments! Seriously, they really make my day when I read them. They give me the conviction to keep writing, because even though your first audience should be yourself, it’s nice to know there are others who want to read it, too. Hopefully I'll be able to post with a _little_ more regularity in the New Year.


	17. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara and Zuko make their way to Ba Sing Se to help the Earth King with his new project, Zuko's daring idea to smooth over residual tensions between the Four Nations. Both worry that in seeing one another again, things that should not happen; _cannot_ happen, may come to pass.

It was refreshing to sleep in a bed that didn’t rock and shake through the night. This was partly because Zuko had never _quite_ gotten used to being on boats, no matter how much time he spent on them, and mostly because his nights spent at sea were irrevocably tied to his time as a troubled, scarred (both emotionally and physically) teenager.

Technically, he _was_ still a teenager for another few months, but it felt different when he was nineteen and Fire Lord. Either way, though he enjoyed sailing—the rush of the wind through his hair, the smell of the sea air—he still had trouble sleeping on boats. None but his Uncle knew, but for the first several months after his exile, he’d woken from his sleep every few nights, screaming aloud, begging for his father’s mercy, shocked awake by the ghost of pain that, on bad days, when the air was hottest, the sun its most relenting, he swore he could still feel scorching his flesh.

Even six years later, his rest at sea was fitful. It was better now that he’d come to terms that his father wasn’t a man whose approval he wanted, that he had friends who loved him for _him_, that he was no longer filed with the ceaseless drive to capture the Avatar, but still fitful.

Down the hall from Katara’s room, his own room was splendid, but had bearings of being fairly quickly prepared. There were no Fire Nation insignias anywhere, though Katara had mentioned her room had Water Tribe decoration, but he had to wonder if that was due to rush or because Kuei didn’t want to encourage _too_ much national pride in a firebender.

Hopefully, eventually, Kuei wouldn’t fear him. Because he could tell on some level that Kuei still did. Maybe even Kuei himself didn’t realise it, but he did, and so did the entire Earth Kingdom. They feared the Fire Nation after one hundred years of terror and oppression, they were wary of even the kindest, because they knew how dangerous fire could be. Firebenders were the only benders that didn’t require some of the element to be present. Air was everywhere, but the Nomads had been so peaceful as to not even have a formal military. Water was pretty much everywhere, too, but controlling it in any other form than snow or water vapour was an extremely advanced skill. Earth could be removed from the environment—or an earthbender removed from the earth, if one had the means. Firebenders were by far the most dangerous, only partially because they had spent a century displaying it.

At first he wasn’t aware he was dreaming—but that was the exquisite beauty of dreams, how absurd they could become and you didn’t really question it, that was just how the world worked until you reasoned down deep enough to form questions. He was walking along a beach—Diqiu Beach or Ember Island, he couldn’t say, but he could feel sand under his feet and sun on his skin and a faint breeze in his hair. The soft lapping of waves came from his right side, and he appeared to be alone. No guards, no security, no fellow diplomats. It was strange to be truly alone. Often that luxury was only afforded when he donned the Blue Spirit mask.

He hadn’t dreamt in a while. He didn’t often dream whilst at sea, and he didn’t often dream whilst at home, either. His sleep was too brief, his mind too weighed down with other things, that sleep was the only time for it to… switch off. Give him some peace and quiet. A dream was an uncommon gift, one he couldn’t even really appreciate until after it was gone, when he woke and realised that nothing had been real.

“Zuko!” called a voice behind him, and he turned. No one was there. He was still alone, as he had always been. He frowned, confused.

“Zuko!” they called again, and when he turned back to face forwards, Katara was standing there, grinning at him. She wore her sarashis, and a blue silk tied around her waist like an uneven skirt. He grinned back at her, wondering why he’d been confused at her calling his name—she’d always been here.

“You were a world away,” she remarked with a laugh. “What were you thinking about?”

He paused. “I don’t remember.”

She waved a hand. “Then it wasn’t important. Come on, I want to go in the sea.”

He laughed. “The sea? But it’ll be freezing! Why can’t we stay on the nice, warm beach?”

“Because _I_ grew up in the South Pole,” she replied, “It’s not freezing to _me_. Unless…” She gave a sly look. “You’re scared I could beat you in a fight at the sea.”

At that, he gave a loud snort. “Not a chance! In this weather? Under this sun?” They both looked up at the white-hot ball glaring down at them. Katara shrugged.

“I beat you at the North Pole.”

“I was half-dead from exhaustion _and_ weighed down from carrying Aang,” he reminded her, folding his arms obstinately, but he was smiling in that wry way of his.

“Looks like we need a rematch, then,” she said, matching his smile, “I’ll have to teach you again, who’s the better fighter of us.”

The smile became a smirk. “You mean _I’ll_ have to teach you,” he replied, and they made their way to the water, Katara running and him chasing behind her, making her shriek by swiping at her diaphanous skirt, a breath too far to grab her and tackle her into the sand. Sunlight shimmered off the silver beads in her loopies, the pendant around her neck. It had flipped over with all her running about so it showed the back side instead of the front; a flame instead of the Water Tribe crest.

In the water, they duelled, but it was relaxed and fun. Her waterwhips were lazy and relaxed, more poking him to irritate him rather than knock him down, and his firebending was more flamboyant forms he’d seen at circus performances rather than the rigid, efficient combat stances. Now more than ever, their sparring was a dance, intricate and beautiful and communicating some message far beyond the capacity of mere words. They pushed each other into the water with their bending or sometimes their hands, chased each other around, and at one point he managed to grab her silky wrap and ran around, waving it like a captured flag until she dumped a small wave on him and retrieved it as he stood, stunned still and sopping wet.

It was only when he began to tire from all the gallivanting that he noticed the fluffy towels and large umbrella a little ways up the beach, far back enough from the water to avoid getting wet, but not too far. There was a sumptuous meal laid out in the shade of the umbrella. Roasted meat and sweet fruits, spiced sauces and steamed prunes, and his mouth watered.

“Katara,” he called to her, and she dropped her waterbending forms. “I’m starving!”

They retreated under the shade of the umbrella, only then noticing how hot they were, and privately he admitted that her dumping seawater on him was probably the only reason he hadn’t come under the umbrella a lot sooner.

“Would you care for something to drink, my Lady?” he asked in a mock-pompous voice, holding up a jug of water. It still had a few ice cubes in it, so couldn’t have been out for too long.

Katara giggled and rolled her eyes, but responded in kind. “Why I _would_, my Lord. How generous! Would you like a grapeberry?” She held up the small, purplish fruit, and he nodded, holding her gaze as she fed it to him, kissing the tips of her fingers lightly as she did.

Like their sparring and playing, he couldn’t say how long this went on for; feeding each other, chatting, relaxing in the shade. The sun had begun to set, casting everything in warm gold and orange, by the time they were full and had cooled down. The sea air was not quite cold enough to be unpleasant, but it was enough that they huddled a little closer together, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as they lay back on the soft towel.

“I wish we could stay here, right here, forever,” Katara sighed, letting her eyes slip closed.

“Me, too,” he agreed, and she gave a chuckle, propping herself up on one elbow to face him. They smiled at one another, soft and sweet, and Katara leant down, pressing her lips to his—

Zuko woke with a cold start, bedclothes tangled around his legs, and sat bolt upright in bed. Glancing out the window, he saw the moon was starting to set, dawn tinging the sky pink, and realised all of it had been a dream. He ran a hand through his tangled hair and shook his head as though physically dislodging the memories from his mind.

A dream meant nothing. Sometimes he dreamt about commanding a ship of pirates, sometimes he dreamt about a world with impossible technologies and no bending. Dreams didn’t always mean a hidden desire. His thoughts were crowded with Katara because they had unexpectedly met, because they were going to be working together. His thoughts were crowded with being Fire Lord because even still, unrest threatened to unseat him, there were people displeased with his choices.

It was loneliness, he reasoned.

* * *

The next morning dawned crisp and cool, a slight bite wafting in from the sea air. Zuko woke early, his sleep after the dream as fitful as it was brief. As ever, the sun invigorated him. Katara, on the other hand, was tentatively roused by servants, and rushed to get ready. She emerged from her room tying the sash around the waist of her tunic. Zuko noticed the white embroidered crest on her undershirt and smiled.

“Did you do that yourself?” he asked. Katara nodded.

“I had a lot of time at the Air Temples before I… ended things with Aang,” she replied. “I ended up doing a lot of sewing.” She flushed slightly. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed it—there was something soothing about the activity, but it wasn’t what she _loved_ to do.

“Speaking of Aang… did he offer to fly you to Ba Sing Se?”

Katara shook her head. “I’m not even sure if he knows I’m going there,” she admitted, frowning slightly. “We haven’t really spoken since the Summit, I wanted to give him some… some space.”

“I think you both needed some space from each other,” Zuko said, “No offence to either of you, but the person you are in war is different to the person you are in peacetime.”

She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. She and Aang had been together since the end of the war, it had been such a monumental shift in the world and her personal life all at once, and what had worked in their relationship when they had had a single, clear goal had become irritating and monotonous when their agendas had begun to differ. Aang had just shifted the focus of his goal; restoring Air Nomad culture. Katara had set her sights of something more complex; keeping up the peace and becoming a valued member of the Water Tribe community.

“I know who I am,” she said, “The problem was… it didn’t match with who Ang was—_is_. So I tried to shape myself around Aang’s needs, ignoring what _I_ wanted, and… it didn’t work. It never worked. I just… wasn’t willing to admit it at first.”

“The hardest truths are the ones we refuse to tell ourselves,” he agreed sombrely. Katara eyed him, a strange expression on her face he couldn’t quite identify, but said nothing.

The servants prepared a delicious breakfast with more food than ten Kataras and twenty Zukos could have eaten, and then they were greeted by a procession to take them into Ba Sing Se itself. According to the head of the procession—whom Katara quickly realised was the very man Nakai had complained about, Lao—they would arrive at Kuei’s palace by late afternoon, just in time for a long dinner and a quick chat before tomorrow’s efforts truly began.

“It really _is_ like a miniature Summit,” she remarked, after the appropriate greetings had been exchanged. She expected Zuko had noticed as clearly as her that Lao had been a little cooler towards him than her. Kuei wasn’t the only person who was a little uncomfortable at the idea of giving up what many still considered to be Earth Kingdom land; stolen land.

“Let’s hope it goes as smoothly,” Zuko murmured out of the corner of his mouth as they got into the large carriage. Opposite them sat Lao, who watched them both with a neutral expression.

Katara’s heart sank a little. She’d been hoping for some private conversation time with Zuko—just to talk over a few ideas she’d had for the ‘project’, of course. Sure, they could discuss that in front of Lao, but it felt distinctly more awkward and wooden when she knew she was being watched so closely by someone so unfamiliar. She hoped he didn’t start talking about economics like Nakai had complained to her about.

But, just as they were about to move off, someone knocked on the door of the carriage and it opened to reveal one of the guards on their procession. He murmured something into Lao’s ear which neither Katara nor Zuko heard, and his neutral expression darkened to something more severe.

“Forgive me, Master Katara, Fire Lord Zuko,” he said, “Something has come up, and His Esteemed Majesty has requested my presence in Ba Sing Se at once. He’s arranged a more rapid form of travel for myself.” He stood from his seat. “I wish you both a pleasant journey,” he said, bowing to them, “And hope to see you in the capital at a later date. Please excuse me.”

With that, he walked out of the carriage, the guard also bowed to them, and shut the door. Zuko and Katara exchanged a look, concerned.

“You don’t think it’s because of me?” Zuko asked. Katara hesitated.

“I mean… there are always people who oppose change…” she said slowly, “And Lao’s not a military official. He’s one of Kuei’s advisors.”

Zuko hummed, not convinced. What if he or Katara or even Kuei himself was attacked during this miniature Summit? He knew Katara could protect herself, of course, and Kuei had an army of highly-trained guards to keep _him_ safe. But still, one of them being attacked wouldn’t do well for lingering tensions.

Katara reached across the seat and put a hand on his arm. “Kuei’s on your side, Zuko,” she told him, “We both are.”

For a moment, he looked down at her hand, smooth brown skin on bright red silk, and considered how easy it would be to cover it with his own, to lace their fingers together, and how damning that would be. Looking up to meet her gaze, he managed a smile, and tried not to look awkward as he shifted, pulling his arm away, breaking their contact. Katara shifted back, too, hurt flashing in her eyes, the sting and confusion of rejection, before she clamped down on it.

Despite the fact they were alone, they passed the journey in silence.

* * *

They were received at the palace of Ba Sing Se late that afternoon with all the extravagance they’d expected (and somewhat dreaded), Kuei welcoming them up the steps with open arms, Bosco curled up at his feet.

“Princess Katara,” Kuei said warmly, pulling her into a hug. “Fire Lord Zuko.” They bowed to each other.

“Your Esteemed Majesty,” Katara said, “It’s an honour, truly, to be invited to help you both with your reformation efforts.”

Kuei beamed at her. “You flatter me, Katara. Who better to ensure everything is fair than a neutral party? Anyway—come in, come in! You both must be exhausted from your journey. And Fire Lord Zuko,” he added, “Your uncle sends his regards.”

“General Iroh also asked that this be passed along to you,” said one of the guards, handing Zuko a scroll. Unfurling it, Zuko realised it was Iroh telling him that he had requested Zuko be released form his political duties for one day during this miniature Summit, so they could spend some quality time together. The smile that touched the corner of his mouth softened his face enough that for a moment, one could almost believe he really was just nineteen.

“I’ll leave the decision of which day to take up to you,” Kuei said, “Provided it’s not tomorrow, we have a lot of work. But I owe a great debt to your uncle. He saved my crown, my city, and has been my official tea provider since the end of the war.”

“We do have a lot of work,” Zuko agreed, rolling the scroll back up and deciding not to comment that one of Kuei’s points was Not Like The Other. “Once again, thank you for your generosity, Your Esteemed Majesty.”

They were led into the grand dining hall that Katara recognised as the place her and Toph had snuck into during the war when attempting to first contact Kuei for help. Lain out on the huge table was even more food than what they’d been served at breakfast, and Katara felt nauseous just looking at it until Kuei said, “The noblemen and women of the upper ring will be dining with us, I’ll give you two some time to get ready and freshen up after your journey.”

They were led through the palace, a labyrinth of correidors that made the Fire Nation palace seem quaint by comparison until they reached the guest wing. Sure enough, their rooms were exquisite, neighbouring one another. The windows faced east, so Zuko could see the sunrise and Katara the moonrise. Katara’s room had more Water Tribe decorations than Zuko’s had Fire Nation décor but both were the last word in comfort with huge beds and personal wash rooms.

“Princess, Fire Lord,” said the servant, bowing and walking away without waiting to see if they wanted anything else. Katara got the impression that the King’s personal servants were a little snobbier than those on Nakai’s ship or Diqiu Beach.

“I’ll leave you be, then,” she said to Zuko, already turning towards the door of her room. Zuko frowned.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Katara glanced at him. “Uh, no. Not… really…” Something felt wrong between them, something awkward, something in Zuko moving his hand away, avoiding her gaze when they’d said their goodbyes at the last Summit. Something had felt wrong between them for a long time and it wasn’t getting better.

Moonlight down an alley. Rain trickling down her spine. A puff of warm breath in cold night air.

“I just need a bit of space,” she told him, as honestly as she could, because they’d never lied to one another and she wasn’t going to be the one to start. “To… clear my head. Get my mind straight before—before all this political stuff.” Even the dinner tonight, where she and Zuko were sure to be the guests of honour, would involve a fair amount of social politics.

She wondered if Lady Satriva would be there.

Zuko tried not to let his face show his disappointment. After the quiet carriage ride, he felt like he’d missed out on something—he wasn’t quite sure what that something was, either, but he disliked missing it. “Alright,” he said lightly, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“See you at dinner.”

* * *

Since Katara was a waterbender, hence invigorated by the moon, and genuinely _was_ tired from travelling all day, she elected to take a nap. It was strange not to feel the sea rocking her, or hear it outside the window, and only now did she really feel like she was away from her home.

Maybe that was why she’d always struggled at the Air Temples. They were always so far away from the water. Too high up, or too far inland. Even the Fire Nation capital, enclosed in the crater of a long-dead volcano, was close enough to the sea that she could usually smell it under all the smoke and spices, hear it under the hubbub of the city.

Either way, it took a long while before she fell asleep, falling under that silky veil, into that halfway world between people and spirits. That was what Gran-Gran had always said; sleep was when people were closest to the spirits, when regular people were almost Avatars themselves, bridging the void.

She found herself wandering along a beach, moonlight rippling across the water, sand cool between her toes. She wore not her formal robes or even the more informal ones she taught waterbending in, but light, floating silks that fluttered in the sea breeze, shimmering when they caught the light just-so.

Looking up at the moon, she’d never before been so aware that Yue looked down on her, that the moon was, in some way, alive. The light soaked right into her skin, her blood, power almost tingling at the tips of her fingers. Here, she could do anything.

Once, these dreams had scared her. Feeling that power had reminded her of Hama, of what she had become, of what Katara had almost let herself become. Now, they comforted her, excited her, because she knew she was better than that. Her heart was full of love, not hate, and the power that flowed through her was all her own. Not Hama’s, not Yue’s, not anyone’s but hers.

“The view is beautiful tonight,” came a voice, and she turned, expecting to see him looking out across the water, up at the moon and stars, but instead his gaze was fixed squarely on her. She smiled, amused and flattered—even after all this time, flattered.

“You say that every time we come out here,” she said, walking over to him and linking her arms around his neck.

He gave a shrug, sliding his hands around her waist. “It’s true every time.” Leaning down for a kiss, his hands moved down, over her hips, pulling her against him. As ever, he was warmer than her. The sea breeze had sent gooseflesh over her exposed skin and he rubbed it away as his hands slid over her back, tracing her spine, holding her close.

“We should be getting back,” she murmured against his mouth. They didn’t really have much time, they never did.

“We have more time than you think,” he replied. Dream time didn’t always line up with real time, after all.

She chuckled, pulling back fully. “You always say that.”

Another shrug. “It’s always true.”

He ducked to kiss her again, more heated then before, his hands pressing hard against her back. She moved her arms to clutch at his shoulders, run her fingers through his hair, bite on his bottom lip just hard enough to make him gasp, a choked-off moan coming from his throat—

Katara woke suddenly. Confused for a moment, she looked around, finding herself in her warm bed in Kuei’s palace, blankets cocooning her, shutting out the light from the setting sun. Dinner would be soon, she supposed, and crawled out of the bed to begin dressing.

Her thoughts wandered as she dressed, having long since learned how to lace up the complicated bodice, and wandered towards her dream.

She’d had dreams like that before, of course. Since she’d been old enough to know what boys were and why girls older than her suffered to spend time with them. Not always on a beach, not always ending so quickly.

But each time, the other person in that dream, she hadn’t been able to ascribe a face to him. She could never remember what he sounded like, what he looked like, only that he delighted her.

Her hands shook a little until she forced them to still. She could never remember what the young man looked like, she wasn’t _supposed_ to. He was something from her dreams.

So why was it, when she thought of the rasp of his voice, the warmth of his skin, that she thought of someone real?

Swallowing, she forced herself to think of other things as she got ready, putting new silver beads in her loopies, adjusting her mother’s necklace at her throat. She wasn’t here to have fun, she had a job to do. So, do it she would.

Stepping outside her room, she was immediately faced with Zuko standing there. He looked appropriately formal and appropriately handsome. Since he was a guest, it wouldn’t do for him to be going too over-the-top with the formal dress, lest he come across like he was trying to show up the Earth King. As dinners with the Earth King went, tonight was pretty casual. His undershirt was dark red and fitted, somewhat unusual for the typically-flowing style of Fire Nation clothes, but his epaulettes, surcoat and boots were all the expected scarlet-with-gold-detailing. The gold medallion on his belt and the crown tucked in his hair made clear who he was, even if the robes themselves might’ve suggested he really just was some nobleman’s kid.

“You look lovely,” he said, smiling when they locked eyes. Katara blinked at him.

“Am I late?” she asked, “Did Kuei send you to—”

“Oh, no,” Zuko assured her, “I just thought it might be nice if we… went down together.” When Katara raised an eyebrow, he swallowed. “Fine!” he exclaimed, a hint of his temper shining through, and she realised before he said so that he was nervous. “I don’t like it here,” he said, “The people all hate me, and I know why, but I think if I have to walk into that hall on my own and see everybody staring at me…” He trailed off. “Do you mind?”

She watched him for a long moment, thinking about what this suggested. She was meant to be the neutral party here, but Zuko was a dear friend. She was known as the Avatar’s companion, but they weren’t dating anymore. She was more than a little nervous about facing all those aristocrats, too.

So, with a smile, she stepped forwards and wrapped her hands around his arm. “Would the Fire Lord be so gracious as to escort me to the banquet hall?” she asked in the affected tones she’d heard noblewomen use towards suitors the last time she’d been in the Earth King’s palace. For a moment she wondered if any noblewomen would be here in the explicit hopes of courting Zuko—he was still unmarried, still leaving available a seat for considerable political power. He still didn’t seem all that interested in a wife, she knew why Mai had left, why they’d broken up, and it hadn’t just been because Zuko was snappy where Mai was sullen.

Zuko beamed at her, relieved. “I would be honoured, Master Katara,” he said, covering her hand with his own and leading her along.

The servant waiting for them both at the end of the corridor bowed to them deeply without comment and turned to lead them to the banquet hall. But, later, he would remark to his colleagues as they finished their work for the day and handed the palace duties over to their nighttime counterparts, that the Princess of the Southern Water Tribe and the Fire Lord rather suited one another.

“How ridiculous!” one servant would exclaim, “Her people suffered at Fire Nation hands almost as much as the Air Nomads! I heard the Southern style of waterbending was almost completely lost!”

“I’m not so sure,” another would muse, “They’re rather close—they saved each other from the Mad Princess, and she came all the way from the South Pole to help the Fire Lord and His Esteemed Majesty.”

“Oh, as if she could refuse a personal invitation,” yet another would scoff, “There’s no denying they’re _friends_, of course—they’re both part of the Avatar’s inner circle—but they don’t _suit_ each other. They’re as different as, _heh_, fire and water.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good lordy, this chapter was a real beast. Writer's block hit me hard, plus the fact that I've been swamped with work meant I didn't really have enough time to get into The Zone. Alas. But here you are, very overdue!


	18. Differences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having both arrived in Ba Sing Se, Zuko and Katara set about their duties preparing for the colony reformation into a semi-independent city-state. But, when listening to Kuei describe his ideas, Katara grows concerned that maybe the Earth King's reasons aren't so virtuous as she would like to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! Alas, this is not a very Valentine's-y chapter, but that's soon to come!

The next morning, the plans were discussed.

“Fire Lord Zuko has suggested that a small portion of Earth Kingdom land be sectioned off as an independent state,” Kuei was explaining to Katara as Zuko entered the dining hall for breakfast. “The small archipelago off the south-west coast and a portion of the peninsula—not too far from my own coastal palace, as things would have it.”

“By the grace of Your Esteemed Majesty, of course,” Zuko said as he sat down. Deference was more important than ever now they were in the heart of the Earth Kingdom, in Ba Sing Se where his uncle had besieged, where he had helped his sister take control in a matter of days. Kuei offered him a pleased smile as a servant stepped forward to serve Zuko his food.

“Of course,” Katara echoed, “And how might I assist you two with the, ah, transition period?”

“Initial polls suggest a very positive reaction to the plan,” Kuei said, “I’ll have one of my servants send the necessary documents to a study—or, if you prefer, your private room,” he added.

“A study will be just fine, thank you,” Katara said. Kuei smiled.

“Very well then. If you could examine the responses, see what could be done to entice those who are hesitant, what exactly their concerns are, their hesitation based in, we could get this project close to a hundred-percent approval level!” Not, obviously, that it really mattered what the approval level was—Kuei was the King, and what he wanted, he got. Still, Katara was pleased to see that he did care about his subjects, that he did want the best for them, even the ones that were loyal to the Fire Nation as well as the Earth Kingdom.

She’d worried he’d be tempted to cast the partially-Fire-Nation citizens out; completely strip them of their Earth Kingdom nationality and send them away. Instead, whilst he was still wary of the Fire Nation as a general entity, he saw those people as his own, and those people needed a new place for the new world the Four Nations found themselves in today.

So, she gave a dazzling smile and said, “I’ll see what I can find from the records. Would it be alright with Your Esteemed Majesty if I was to travel to some of the areas with dual-national populations and speak to them personally?”

Kuei hummed, pressing his lips together. “If you believe it will be useful,” he said, “I’ll authorise a few guards to accompany you. Those areas have rather high crime rates.”

She raised her eyebrows. “They do?”

“Generally discriminatory,” Kuei admitted, “Some of my citizens see them as Fire Nation invaders, traitors to the Earth Kingdom. Those areas are amongst the poorest in the land, and I would not feel comfortable sending you there unguarded, Master Katara. Not a comment on your strength, of course, but I would not want to worry your father or brother, nor incur their ire, by them having any reason to think I had put you knowingly in danger.”

Katara nodded, understanding his point, even if it still annoyed her that her father and Sokka might fret about her—as if they weren’t well aware what she was capable of. But her more pressing concern was a new light being cast on the project. Had Kuei agreed to this plan, not to set up a new multicultural hub as an example of the Four Nations new form of harmony, but as a way to send off the citizens he found difficult, undesirable, or complex? Was he extraditing those he feared might come to oppose him as a result of their conflicting loyalties?

She shot a glance towards Zuko, wondering if he, too, had noticed this, and was relieved to see that dark, knowing glint in his golden eyes. Without so much as a twitch of the lips, a message passed between them.

_We need to talk_.

* * *

The study that Kuei had reserved for Katara’s personal use was towards the front of the palace, overlooking the entrance courtyard. Despite being several floors up, she couldn’t see over the wall that marked the end of the King’s area and the beginning of the Upper Ring, and was once again daunted by the sheer size of everything here.

She supposed it made sense; the Earth Kingdom, in pure land mass, was by far the largest Nation and had the largest population by a fair margin, too.

Which also meant that the population of the dual-nationals was nothing to sniff at, either. After breakfast, Zuko requested if he might also look over the records Kuei had procured for Katara, and they retired to the study with fresh concerns on their lips, only trusting to speak them to each other.

Katara spoke first, the words coming out the instant Zuko closed the door of the study. Twisting her hands together nervously, then clenching them into fists, she said, “You don’t think King Kuei is trying to… send them away, do you? The dual-nationals?”

Zuko swallowed, leaning against the door, arms folded, hair falling over his face. He’d taken it out of the royal topknot almost as soon as he’d gotten out of Kuei’s sight. He’d become very used to having hair cover his face, and Katara had to wonder if that was sheer preference or if, on some level, he still tried to hide his scar.

Unbidden, her thoughts flashed to the second scar, the one hidden by his clothes, but she forced herself to focus before anything more came to mind.

“I know Kuei was eager when I suggested the project,” he said slowly, “I figured it was because he was pleased that… that I was making an effort to show the Fire Nation didn’t want to sustain a military presence, but that we weren’t wholly abandoning our people.”

“But is that because _Kuei_ intends to abandon them?” Katara pressed, “Making sure you’re willing to claim them so they don’t become stateless. Or—” Her voice hitched just _thinking_ about the possibility. “—does he not even care about that? Does he… _want_ them to be stateless?” She shook her head, pacing back and forth across the room as Zuko watched her from where he continued to lean against the door. The sunlight streamed through the huge window opposite him, catching in the silver beads woven into her hair, turning her hair itself to deep copper.

“Are they just… too different that they’ll never belong anywhere?” she asked, concern beginning to give way to anger. Zuko knew she’d take Kuei on singlehandedly if she began to truly suspect he wanted those people gone. “That they’re being sent away so no one has to think about them ever again? Is Kuei trying to get rid of them?”

“I don’t know, Katara,” Zuko sighed, “I didn’t even… _consider_ that, I’d just been so relieved he’d liked my plan. A place for those cultures to interact, a place for the Four Nations to exist together in a way they never have before.” Not as separate, coexisting cultures but one huge mix; celebrating their differences, not using them as walls.

“I have to see exactly what people meant by those polls,” she said firmly, “I need to figure out what those responses meant, and _who_ responded. How can I know if they were Earth Kingdom citizens who want the dual-nationals out, or dual-nationals who want to escape the oppression here?”

“Setting up the Earth Kingdom governments in the colonies might have had a hand in the discriminatory crimes Kuei mentioned…” Zuko murmured, brow furrowing as a dark expression clouded his features. “I was just eager for him to see I didn’t want the Fire Nation keeping control, but those people might have used it as an excuse to oppress the dual-nationals.”

“I need to go to those old colonies,” Katara said, “I need to speak to them myself.”

“Do you really think that will be helpful, Katara?” he asked, “You showing up, an emissary of the King, who everyone knows also suffered greatly at the hands of the Fire Nation?”

Katara scowled, knowing he was right and hating it. Showing up with Kuei’s guards at her back couldn’t send a clearer message. _I come from the King, I only want to hear about how much you want the dual-nationals tucked away._

She folded her arms, frustrated, and wracked her brain for a solution. Then, all at once, so simple and elegant she was a little surprised it hadn’t come to mind immediately, she knew what she had to do.

“Well, then,” she said, turning to Zuko with a smile that was both beautiful and terrifying. Something about the light in her eyes, the mischief and determination, “I guess Master Katara won’t be going to visit the old colonies. But that doesn’t mean I can’t still go. Blue _is_ my colour, after all.”

After a moment of confusion, realisation dawned, and Zuko smiled at her wryly.

“We won’t be able to wear blue until after nightfall, though,” he pointed out, “What do you suggest in the mean time?”

Katara sat herself down on one of the pillows surrounding the low table in the middle of the study and reached for the dainty bell in the centre. “I’m going to look over those polls,” she said, “I want to know exactly which areas are so positive about the dual-nationals moving, which are negative, and _why_.”

Zuko cocked his head, moving away from the door in anticipation of the servants who would come bursting through with the necessary paperwork. “It’s a fair journey out to the old colony sites,” he said, “Half a day if we’re quick.”

“Well, then, I guess we’ll have to get on that,” she said smartly, “Kuei has carriages or something.”

“Rather obvious, don’t you think?” Zuko suggested, “If you want to find out what people _really_ think.”

Katara hummed. “You’re right,” she admitted, “So… how do we get out to the colonies?”

Zuko bobbed his head. “I’ll have something figured out by this evening,” he said, “In the meantime, you figure out—” The door to the study banged open and three servants entered, arms full with scrolls. Zuko eyed them as they bowed to Katara, laying out the scrolls on the table whilst paying very little heed to him. Not quite disrespect, but just enough that he could see they didn’t care for him, son of a warmonger, especially not next to the woman who had defeated the Mad Princess—_his_ sister.

“…just who wants their voice heard,” he finished.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Katara said, not looking at him, already pulling a scroll towards her. “That will be all, thank you,” she added to the servants, who immediately bustled out, the scrolls the only proof they’d ever been there at all.

Zuko resumed his position, leaning against the door. “You have any problems about transport being… rough?”

She snorted. “I spent half a year sleeping out in the open or riding around on Appa,” she said, “As long as there’s something over my head to keep the rain off, I don’t mind.”

He gave a curt nod, then too excused himself from the room. Katara unrolled the first scroll, detailing initial opinions about Kuei and Zuko’s suggested project. They were relatively negative; people seeing it as the Fire Nation wanting to hold on to stolen land, she supposed.

Looking through the other scrolls, it became clear that _something_ was changing general public opinion—each poll was more positive than the last. That in itself she had no problem with; but _why_ were they becoming so accepting of the idea? What had been pointed out to them about the colonies—or the people in them—that would make them agree to the annexing of the peninsula?

* * *

Thankfully, Kuei didn’t ask too many questions when Zuko asked for his smallest, fastest carriage to be prepared for that evening, to take him and Katara to the old colonies overnight, so that they might spend the entire next day talking to locals.

“I thought we’d agreed that us showing up would put people off,” Katara said, frowning as Zuko explained this to her. He gave a small smirk.

“We did,” he admitted, “Which is why _we’re_ not going. I’m just… laying some groundwork.”

She raised an eyebrow and waved a hand at him. “Go on then, explain.”

He inclined his head, an advisor thanking his lady for permission to speak. “It would be a bizarre coincidence if the Blue Spirits were to resurface in the colonies the same day we both went there,” he said lightly.

“It would,” Katara agreed, already an amused glitter in her eye.

“But if the palace and all it’s servants and even the King himself know that, tonight, when we’re headed to the colonies in a carriage, the Blue Spirits were sighted _here_. And _then_ in the colonies _tomorrow_ night, _after_ we depart to return, then… well. It would seem as though they’re trying to hunt us down more than anything. Our enemies, adversaries—certainly, not _us_.”

Katara’s grin spread slow and wicked across her face. “Certainly not.”

So, that evening, when Kuei bid them good luck and they bundled into the carriage, she said to the driver, “Please, don’t disturb me until we arrive at the colonies. I want to get as much rest as possible.”

“Of course, Master Katara, Fire Lord Zuko,” the man said, “But are you sure you wouldn’t prefer something a little more… fitting of your status?” He eyed the carriage, much smaller than something the King would’ve used to sleep in, consisting only of the two separate sleeping chambers and a third compartment for luggage. Luggage that, unbeknownst to the driver, contained a pair of enamel masks.

“This will be fine,” she assured him, “I grew up in a hut roughly this size. It’s certainly warmer.”

The driver gave a small laugh, somewhat nervous because he wasn’t sure if he was meant to laugh, but didn’t want to offend by _not_ laughing. Katara was relieved that he was a little confused and flustered; that made him all the less likely to disturb them over night and discover that, in fact, they weren’t there.

Catching up to the carriage might be a bit difficult, but it _just so happened_ that there was a river just outside Ba Sing Se that ran along the road the carriage would be taking.

“I do hope the Blue Spirit doesn’t cause any trouble,” Katara remarked quietly as she and Zuko bundled into the carriage, their long robes covering the fitted black silks they wore underneath. Zuko bit down on a snigger.

Darkness fell just after the carriage departed, and such was the sure-footedness of the two spirits that when they crawled out of the top, none of the guards, whose attentions were fixed on the road before them. After that, it was a simple enough matter to walk to the river and Katara sped them back into the heart of Ba Sing Se in an air bubble until they were ascending up one of the city’s wells and standing in the middle of a dark square.

“This isn’t too far from where me and Uncle lived during the war,” Zuko remarked, looking around.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Kuei and his advisors,” Katara said, “You know where they live?”

“Where they live, what they think of me, what they think of you, what they think of the colonies,” Zuko replied smoothly.

“What they think of _me?_ You didn’t mention _that_ before,” she exclaimed, turning to look at him. He cocked his head, the gesture somewhat eerie when he wore a mask. She could tell he was wondering if she was going to ask that question. _What do you know? What _do_ they think of me?_ She smiled.

“Some things are best left unknown,” she said. Knowing wouldn’t do any good, she was sure. She needed to come across as measured, calm and most importantly, mature. Acting like a child by indulging in what they thought of her, taking it to heart, would go directly against that. “What do they think of _you?_” she then asked.

Zuko, caught somewhat off-guard, barked a laugh. “Ha!” he exclaimed, then glanced around, not seeming too concerned about having been heard. “Well, a lot of them don’t like me.”

“Shocker,” Katara muttered. He shrugged.

“They don’t. Some are warming up to me, though. Generally those are the ones who like you—they think your endorsement is enough reason to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“Well, then, glad I could help,” she laughed. “Now, where does Lord Nidao live?”

Zuko looked around, muttering under his breath, then pointed down a street. “That way, I believe. Right at the border. As close as the King as you can get without being _in_ the palace.”

“It’s the same in the Fire Nation, too, isn’t it?” Katara said as they scaled a nearby building. It was always more mysterious when spirits flew across the roofs, and few people ever thought to look up when they heard strange noises, anyway. She watched Zuko climb up the little pipe along the wall as if it were effortless and then, wondering if she was watching too closely, looked away.

Assuming a braced stance, she summoned water from under the drain the pipe was draining into and swept it up underneath her, coming to stand on the roof beside Zuko. He was watching her. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, then turned and began running along the roof. Without comment, she followed.

It was easy enough to find the place. Just like everything about Earth Kingdom aristocracy, it couldn’t resist the flamboyance, the pride, the sheer _status_ of announcing exactly who lived there and exactly what they did. Lord Nidao wanted everybody to know just who they were dealing with before they even got to his front door. There were symbols of his importance literally carved into the walls; characters representing wealth and power, gold adornments on elaborate statues of huge beasts. Katara wondered if maybe he was compensating for something.

“Subtlety isn’t his strong point, is it?” Zuko murmured, making her jump. She hadn’t realised just how close behind her he was. There was enough of a height difference between them that even though his face was covered, she could feel his breath on the back of her neck when it puffed out from the bottom of the mask.

“No,” she replied, and they moved in closer. One of the windows on the second floor was still illuminated, and Zuko knew Lord Nidao lived alone. It seemed as though even his considerable status wasn’t enough to detract from his wholly unpleasant personality. Both of them had known him to be civil, but there was no mistaking the utter contempt he bore for the Fire Nation, including their reformist Fire Lord.

“After you,” Zuko said, and they hopped up onto the balcony, crouching on the rail, and waited.

It was several seconds before Nidao became aware he was being observed, and slowly turned towards the glass door. When he caught sight of them, the black silks making it look as though two masks were just floating in mid-air, he jumped back. Letting out a cry, he almost tripped over the low tea table.

Without saying a word, Zuko and Katara cocked their heads in unison. Zuko climbed down from the railing and drew his dao swords. He pointed one at Nidao. _Open the door. Come outside._

Surprisingly, he obeyed. Hands shaking, he pulled open the door and stepped out, but he kept one hand gripped on the handle and didn’t shut it, in case he needed a speedy escape. Both Katara and Zuko knew that they were faster than Nidao, and a glass door wouldn’t stop them.

“You—you’re trespassing!” he gasped.

Zuko was silent, like always. Katara was the spirit with a voice. “Who is going to arrest a spirit?” she asked in her disguised voice. “We have questions for you.”

“Q-questions?” Nidao squeaked, “Like what? I’ll—I’ll tell you what you want, just—please! Don’t hurt me!”

“What are the King’s intentions for the dual nationals?” Katara asked him. Nidao stared at her.

“You want to know about the _colony reformations?_” he exclaimed, “What do spirits want with politics?”

“There is balance in everything, Lord Nidao,” Katara said. “What is the King planning?”

Nideo swallowed, shaking like a leaf in an autumn breeze. “He—he wanted the dual nationals to have a safe place,” he said, “There’s so much crime—it’ll go down if they go away. Keep to themselves.”

“And you?”

“Me?” he squawked. He knew there was a right and a wrong answer here. And there was no point in trying to lie to a spirit. “I—I want those Fire Nation soldiers and all their ilk out of the Earth Kingdom—for good!” he exclaimed, “I want them away, before they bring back war and oppression! They aren’t dual-nationals, they’re liabilities; divided loyalties!”

“Surely,” Katara murmured, “_You_ are the one encouraging war and oppression by sending them away, not punishing those who actually commit the crimes.”

“They’re _warmongers!_” Nidao hissed, fear giving way to fury. The hand that wasn’t closed on the door handle clenched into a fist, but he recoiled when Zuko lurched forwards, swords in hand. “They _are!_”

“They only want to live peacefully—_you_ want to force them from the place they’ve lived their whole lives,” Katara said in a low voice. “Having lived in the heart of Ba Sing Se during the last years of the war… you know how hard people will fight to keep their home when someone tries to take it from them.”

Lord Nidao stared at her, his eyes swimming with a mix of fear and loathing. “They are the sons and daughters of people who instigated a _genocide_,” he gasped, almost pleading. “They are the sum of _generations_ of war. How can you expect them to be peaceful? To not keep taking our land, our people?”

Even as he spoke, he trembled. Did he think they were going to kill him? So what if he did, Katara thought, let him quiver in fear for once in his life.

“They are the sum of two peoples who spent a century at war with each other,” Katara said, “How can _you_ expect them to be anything _but_ peaceful?”

Because, wasn’t that the heart of it? They’d seen the worst of the war (of the people who had survived to speak of it), were the children of Fire Nation soldiers and Earth Kingdom soldiers, of those in both Nations who had decided that family and love and community were worth more than fighting. They had grown up knowing nothing but the heart of conflict, living on the front lines of both sides. They, more than anyone, would surely want nothing more than to never have to fight ever again.

“Go back inside, Lord Nidao,” Katara ordered softly, and somewhat to her surprise, he obeyed without comment. He closed the door behind him and drew the curtains, blocking them from his view. For several long moments, his hands still clutched the drapes, and in a moment of panic he wrenched them back.

He saw nothing but the empty balcony.

* * *

Morning dawned just as the carriage arrived in the peninsula that had been designated as the place for the ‘reformation project’. It was mostly land that had been colonised by the Fire Nation during the war, but Kuei and Zuko’s suggested area expanded a little beyond that to include all the nearby islands (even those that had resisted Fire Nation control) and a section of the coast a little further north. Most of the land was uninhabited, save for the dual-nationals—who, whilst not all being of Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom _descent_, were all products of the two cultures.

Katara and Zuko were roused from their all-too-short sleep by a tentative knocking on the door of the carriage. “Lord Zuko? Master Katara?” came a voice, “We’re arrived.”

“Wonderful…” Katara murmured around a yawn. “Five… five more minutes?”

“Come on, Katara,” Zuko sighed, pushing back the screen that separated their two compartments. Even on little sleep, the sun invigorated him—and he’d long since becomes used to functioning on a few hours. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since before his mother had vanished. “We have work to do.”

“You rise with the sun,” she grumbled at him. “Not me.”

_Smug bastard_, she thought, burrowing further into the bedclothes and pulling one pillow over her head to blot out the light. _We got the same amount of sleep and he has the gall to _grin_ at me like he’s well-rested_.

Katara got her five more minutes, and five more, before she finally conceded that she _did_ have a job to do besides vigilantism and she couldn’t do it from her bed in the carriage.

Mercifully, though, he wasn’t as smug when she emerged, looking for all the world like a born princess. The small group of guards that had come with them escorted them in a tight-knit group to where they would be speaking to locals.

They were both, of course, unsure of what to expect from speaking to people so plainly, but Katara hoped that an earnest demeanour and a genuine desire to help would shine through the veneer of status. There was still the problem of her clearly being an emissary of the King, but she didn’t want them to be afraid of her, she wanted to know what they truly thought of the idea of a pseudo-independent city-state, and why they did or didn’t support it.

She suspected the citizens of the archipelago would be more favourable towards living as dual-citizens, purely because, since they lived on islands, they’d always been a little more separate from the Earth Kingdom mainland and its culture. However, that was only an assumption, and whether or not they favoured the idea of the city-state told her nothing about _why_ they favoured it.

A small tent had been erected on the coast, with guards posted either side of the entrance. Inside, Katara sat behind a low table with a pot of tea made specially by the Jasmine Dragon.

Even without a great deal of fanfare, word of mouth had ensured there was no shortage of people wishing to speak with her, which was a relief. The first to sit opposite her and tentatively accept a cup of tea was a girl a few years younger than Katara herself. Like Katara, she had a glint in her eye that aged her beyond her years, and a determined set to her mouth.

“Please, speak freely,” Katara encouraged, though she didn’t think that would be a problem with this one. “I’m not here to find detractors for His Esteemed Majesty. I’m a neutral party, I just want to know what you think about his and the Fire Lord’s plans.”

The girl looked Katara dead in the eye, unruffled. “I don’t like His Esteemed Majesty’s idea,” she said boldly, “I grew up here and I like it the way it is. I don’t want us to be sectioned off from the other Nations just because we don’t fit in a neat category.”

Katara was pleased the girl wasn’t cowing, and hoped the other people here to talk to her would say the same. “Even if it would reduce crime? Give you a place to call your own?” she asked carefully.

The girl’s mouth flattened. “_This_ is my home, and everywhere has crime. If His Esteemed Majesty wants that to go down, he should be harsher on the people who keep attacking my family, not sending us off somewhere.”

“What _has_ His Esteemed Majesty done to combat the rising crime levels, then?” Katara asked. The girl snorted.

“Nothing, as far as I can see,” she said, “Once the Earth-Kingdom-only government was instated, it’s like all our protections as Earth Kingdom citizens have been rescinded, and they see us as just more Fire Nation invaders!”

“This project of his… it would see an equally-balanced government,” Katara said, “It would ensure everyone is represented fairly.”

“Why can’t we have that _now?_” the girl asked, “I don’t want us to be cut off from the rest of the world.”

Katara thought for a moment. “That’s entirely understandable, but you won’t be. What His Esteemed Majesty and the Fire Lord want to do is reconcile differences. The Fire Nation did not come to this land peacefully, and didn’t treat the people kindly, but something wonderful—this multiculturalism of yours—rose from that. The Fire Nation can’t stay here, it would cause more war, but the Earth Kingdom cannot erase your heritage by insisting you go to the Fire Nation.”

“Why can’t we just stay _here?_” the girl insisted, “Why do we all have to pack up and leave.”

“I…” Katara realised something, then, something that surprised her more than she cared to say. Did these people really not _know? _That they had a _choice?_ “You _don’t_,” she said, “You don’t have to live there if you don’t want to. Neither does your family. And… Earth Kingdom citizens outside of the former colonies could live there, too. And Fire Nation people, maybe even Water Tribesmen.”

The girl stared at her. “We _don’t_ have to live there?” she said, “We’re not being sent away, penned in for convenience?”

“Of course not!” Katara exclaimed, “It’s a place for multiculturalism, but you don’t _have_ to live there! Anyone can live wherever they choose!”

For the first time, the girl smiled. “So… we’re not being sent away?” she asked, “I won’t have to say goodbye to my friends who don’t have Fire Nation relatives?”

“Not at all,” Katara assured her, “The idea of His Esteemed Majesty’s project is to promote harmony, not to cart off those who don’t fit into—as you said—neat categories.”

* * *

Over the next several hours, Katara spoke to what felt like hundred of Earth Kingdom citizens, some of whom opposed the project because it was going against Earth Kingdom tradition, some because even though it wasn’t mandatory, they felt like they would be expected to leave their homes to live there, some who didn’t like the idea of the Fire Nation still having some kind of foothold in Earth Kingdom culture, by prying away dual citizens into their own semi-independent city-state.

But mostly, people liked the idea. They liked the idea of cultures blending together, of harmony being the new order, of being able to celebrate their differences instead of focussing only on their similarities. They liked the idea of something beautiful coming out of one hundred years of pain and oppression.

“I really think we stand a chance, this time, Zuko,” Katara said that night, as they watched their carriage slip off into the darkness, clothed in black silks and blue masks. “I really think it’s going to stick. The Four Nations are coming together in new ways, and… maybe this time, it’ll stay peaceful for good. There won’t be any more war.”

Zuko was quiet for a long moment, hardly daring to dream that such a thing could be possible. Even though it had been two-and-a-half years, he still sometimes couldn’t believe that this was his life now, one of peace and collaboration. He still sometimes woke up believing he was on that boat, or under his father’s critical eye.

The two of them dealt necessary justice to a couple of the bandits who Zuko had scouted out that day whilst Katara had been speaking to the locals. They were the perpetrators of the worst of the crimes against the dual nationals. Maybe seeing someone crack down on them would serve as a lesson to those who tried to instigate conflict based on differences no one could help. But also, Katara thought, it was just nice to make someone pay for the wrongdoing they caused. Her one issue in this world of politics, the one that always ground against her and got her back up, was how _slow_ it could be sometimes. It took weeks—_months_—to get anything done, to make people pay for what they had done wrong.

The mask had been freedom for Zuko, power for her, but the same thing: the freedom and power to do what they knew was right, to punish those who sought to hurt others.

Different, and yet the same.


	19. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His Esteemed Majesty, King Kuei of the Earth Kingdom, is a generous host, and encourages Zuko and Katara to take a leisure day after their excursion to the peninsula. Both use the opportunities to reflect on all that has transpired since they were last in Ba Sing Se, with similar conclusions.

Once the Princess of the Southern Water Tribe and the Fire Lord had returned from their excursion to the colonies, His Esteemed Majesty encouraged them both to take a day off after having spent two days sleeping in a carriage. Though neither of them had actually done that much sleeping, they were grateful, and whilst Katara took the morning to do just that, Zuko donned some of his more discreet robes and headed down to the Jasmine Dragon for a cup of tea.

“Zuko!” Iroh said delightedly, when Zuko walked in through the doors, and he rushed over to sweep his nephew into a crushing hug. Zuko smiled and hugged back.

“It’s good to see you, Uncle,” he said, “Do you need any help?”

Iroh laughed. “I’m not such an old man that I need _you_ waiting on me, Fire Lord,” he grinned, but as Zuko caught out of the corner of his eye, there were plenty of employees rushing to pick up the minor slack of having Iroh take a while to himself. They retreated into the kitchen and, as Iroh brewed tea—the selling point of the Jasmine Dragon is that all the tea was brewed by the Dragon of the West, a firebender of such precision that he, and his tea, knew no equal.

“You have to heat different teas to very specific temperatures,” Iroh explained, placing his hands on a metal pot that was brewing his latest creation; a tea inspired by Kyoshi Island. It incorporated a flower unique to the island as well as some of the earthier flavours that served as a base for all of his Earth-Kingdom-inspired brews.

Zuko didn’t offer to help, because he knew there was a reason he’d been the one serving tea, not making it. That said, the idea of some Earth Kingdom commoner looking up to thank their waiter and seeing it was the Fire Lord did tempt him to suggest it. “How is life here treating you, Uncle?” he asked instead. He knew Iroh could protect himself, but the Earth Kingdom, even to a kindly old man who made excellent tea, still bore some old grudges against the Fire Nation. It didn’t help that Iroh had tried to besiege Ba Sing Se twenty years prior, though it looked like most everyone had forgotten that.

“I have a warm bed and a wonderful view of the sunrise,” Iroh replied, “And how are _you?_ I hope the Fire Nation is being kind to its new Fire Lord.”

Zuko thought for a moment. “I’m getting there,” he said, “We’re going to start implementing scholarships to Ba Sing Se University, encourage people to pursue their passions. The Fire Nation will be a place where people _enjoy_ living,” he added firmly.

Iroh beamed as he focussed on the metal pot. “I expected nothing less from you, Zuko,” he said warmly. “And how is Master Katara?” he then asked, his voice just a _little_ too nonchalant, a _little_ too innocent. “She is also here to speak to the King, is she not?”

“Uh…” Suddenly, Zuko felt a little too warm—which was strange, because he was a Firebender, he was _never_ too warm, and the tea-brewing room was actually quite cool to ensure none of the teas got too hot on accident. “She’s well. She’s been helping me figure out what the common people think of the colony reformation plan.”

“I hope she comes to visit,” Iroh murmured, “I would like to know what she thought of my Water Tribe teas.”

“She told me she liked them,” Zuko said, “I think she would like more.”

“Well, then, I shall prepare another set for her!” Iroh said brightly, “Could you pass them along to her?”

Zuko blinked. “Of course, Uncle.”

Iroh smiled. “Wonderful. You know, I hear that her and the Avatar have parted ways. That’s quite sad, isn’t it?”

“It’s for the best,” Zuko shrugged, “Katara mentioned that they were… not as happy as they could’ve been.” He decided to leave it at that—after all, it wasn’t his business, even if he knew his uncle could be trusted and wouldn’t go blabbing.

“Katara confides in you often?” Iroh asked, and Zuko gave a shrug.

“She spoke to Sokka and Suki, too,” he said, “But I think the Summits were just more stressful, so I got the, uh… worst of it.”

Iroh was nodding sagely, like Zuko had revealed some great secret, and suddenly he felt quite exposed in this somehow-too-warm room. “She is a sweet girl,” he said, “But she often tries to take the brunt of the world on her shoulders—much like you, Nephew. Both of you, I think, must learn to take a step back and relax. I presume the King has allowed you both the day off, if you’re here?”

Zuko nodded. “We went out to the old colony sites yesterday, Katara spoke to some of the locals to understand what they thought of the plans. Most of them seemed to like it, but there were a few people who wanted the dual-nationals taken away, sectioned off.”

Iroh frowned, the deep lines in his face becoming more pronounced. He never looked older than when he was sad—but then, he was happy most of the time, and very much young at heart.

“There will always be those who fear what is different,” he said gravely, “Your job, Zuko, is to not listen to fear. Not your own, and not others’. Know the difference between fear and caution. Your father didn’t.”

Zuko was well aware of that. His father had never been one to exercise caution (to say the least) precisely because he saw restraint as weakness; as fear of committing to one’s actions. He was _not_ going to be like his father.

Iroh, however, didn’t just mean fear and caution in political matters. He may have been old, but he still had all his wits about him, and he could tell what his nephew was grappling with internally. He saw how Zuko looked at Katara, the hurt in Zuko’s expression when she came up in conversation, how he tried to hide it when she looked at him.

Honour was a point of cultural dogma in the Fire Nation, and going after one of your closest friend’s former loves—_first_ love—was not honourable, as far as Zuko saw it. Being a little more worldly, and having had a great deal more experience with love and all the wonderful difficulties it entailed, Iroh saw the situation as a little less black-and-white.

But he also knew such things were best discovered by oneself, so he kept his eyes fixed on the metal brewing pot, and said nothing more.

* * *

That afternoon, fatigue finally hit Zuko as the sun began to dip below the horizon—at the exact same moment, as chance would have it, that Katara awoke, feeling invigorated and eager to get out into the city.

As chance would have it again, she decided to head down to the Jasmine Dragon as Zuko had suggested when they’d first arrived in the Earth Kingdom, planning to talk to him about the Water Tribe teas he’d sent her over the winter.

The Jasmine Dragon was just closing up when she arrived, but the attendant cleaning the front recognised her, firstly as Master Katara, secondly as a close friend both of his boss and the Fire Lord. He insisted she sit down whilst he fetched Iroh, and when Iroh came through into the main serving room, he was already grinning broadly.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Katara,” he said, pulling her into another crushing hug, just as he had with Zuko. “My nephew was here earlier, you know.”

“Kuei gave us the day off,” Katara explained, “I was asleep until a little while ago, though.”

Iroh nodded sagely. “It seems the Blue Spirits have followed Zuko from the Fire Nation all the way here,” he said, “That must have been very tiring for the two of you, figuring out how to deal with it.”

Katara gave him a long look, but he only smiled at her. “It’s been… a lot to have to deal with,” she said carefully, and the two shared a conspiratorial grin.

“And the teas I sent you?” Iroh asked, and Katara nodded enthusiastically.

“They were lovely,” she replied, “I like how you used plants from both Tribes, not many people realise how different the Poles are—they just see us as one Water Tribe.” She supposed, in a way, they _were_ one Tribe, in the same way it could be said that everyone in all the Four Nations were part of one even bigger Tribe. But they still had their differences, and there were few things that irritated her as much as someone thinking the Water Tribes were the same just because they both lived in cold areas and could waterbend.

Iroh beamed at her. “You warm an old man’s heart, Katara,” he said, “Now, would you like one of those teas right now? Or would you prefer something else?”

She thought for a moment. “I love your jasmine tea,” she said, and she did. No one made jasmine tea like Iroh. It required a highly specific temperature difficult to maintain unless you were extremely skilled with firebending.

For that comment, she got another beaming smile, and a few minutes later a fresh cup of jasmine tea. Wrapping her hands around it, she breathed a sigh. There was nothing quite like a cup of hot tea to soothe the mind, she had to hand it to Iroh on that one.

“How have you been finding your ambassadorial mission?” he asked her. She shrugged.

“Not much so far,” she said, “We visited the areas where the dual-nationals are living, looked over polls about the proposed reforms…” She heaved a sigh. “I don’t know if things are going to be as easy as Zuko hoped,” she confessed. “I want it to be. I _really_ want just one thing to be as easy as we imagined. This is a new world and no one wants more war, but… sometimes I wonder if everyone is so scared of that possibility that…” She trailed off and gave another shrug.

“Fear is a powerful motivator,” Iroh conceded, “But being aware of the reason behind your actions is a rare and useful skill. Do not question what you are doing, but _why_ you’re doing it.”

Katara nodded, knowing this was good advice—that was the only kind of advice Iroh ever gave. She dreaded to think what would have become of Zuko, and possibly the entire world, if Iroh had not been there for him, guiding him gently towards a path of peace, mercy and harmony. If Zuko had been exiled alone, she was sure he would have only gone further down the road to darkness and hopelessness.

A while later, Iroh insisted Katara be on her way—if she only had the one day off, he didn’t want her wasting her precious free time ‘on an old man and his tea shop’. Insisting she loved his company, Katara did eventually cave and began walking through the Upper Ring, back towards the Palace. Outside in the front courtyard, Zuko was sat on the stairs, his clothing unusually casual considering he was on the front steps of the Earth King’s Palace.

“Did you have a good afternoon with Uncle?” he asked, as Katara approached, and she nodded.

“How could I not? He’s always so nice. He even got _Toph_ to like him, remember?” They both knew Toph had a rare soft spot for Iroh. She loved all of her friends, of course, but the pseudo-daughter relationship she’d struck with the perpetually-parental Dragon of the West was even less brusque.

Zuko chuckled. “How could I forget? He asks after her, you know. He asks after all of you in his letters.” He didn’t mention how, recently, Iroh had been asking about Katara most of all.

“Why aren’t you inside?” she asked, then she frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” he assured her, “I just didn’t want to go inside just yet. It’s so… _stuffy_ in there. Uptight.”

“Ugh, I get _that_,” she exclaimed, coming to sit beside him on the steps. “I love the work we’re doing, but the fancy manners stuff, I could do without. Can’t we just sit around a table and _talk?_”

“That’s what the Summit is for, but this isn’t a Summit,” Zuko sighed. “The one after next will be here, though.”

“And the next one is in six months,” Katara agreed, thinking how it would both mark a year since she broke up with Aang, and be the first Summit she would attend not as ‘the Avatar’s girlfriend’ but as ‘the Southern Water Tribe’s Princess’. “But that's back home. I’m scared to think how fancy _this_ will be in a Summit.”

Zuko balked slightly. “I might actually be sick if it gets any fancier,” he deadpanned. Sure, he’d been raised royal, but compared to the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation’s style was frugal. To Katara, who’d literally grown up in a hut made of ice, he suspected it was something like unbearable.

“There are people in the Lower Ring and beyond the city walls who have next to nothing,” Katara murmured, “Those dual-nationals are some of the poorest and disadvantaged in the entire Earth Kingdom. And we’re standing around all of… _this_.” She didn’t try to hide the disgust in her voice, not when the only person to hear her was Zuko. She’d long-since trusted him with far more than her words.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Zuko asked abruptly, so much so she turned to face him.

“Huh?”

“A walk,” he repeated, “Not far, just… outside of the Palace. Somewhere a little less fancy.”

Katara practically jumped to her feet. “If I have to spend the entire next week in that place, I think I’ll go mad,” she said, “But… I don’t actually know the city that well.” Much of her time here during the war had been spent searching for Appa or trying to speak to Kuei. Neither had led to her taking much notice of which streets led where, especially not in the Upper Ring.

“I actually lived here for months,” Zuko said, also getting to his feet. “I know my way around all three Rings pretty well. Come on, I’ll keep you safe.” This last bit was partially sincere and partially a joke. On the chance someone attacked one of them (which, despite their status, wasn’t all that unlikely) they both knew Katara could fend for herself.

All the same, it was nice to feel… protected. Like someone had her back. That was what had solidified their friendship in the first place.

“Do you know any good places to go on walks?” Katara asked. Zuko extended an arm and, after a moment of hesitation, she wrapped her hands around his elbow, and he led her as if walking into a grand Summit event. Zuko tried not to focus on the pressure of her fingers through the thin material of his robe. Though it was still winter, he ran warm; even warmer for the sensation of her hands on his arm. He turned his thoughts instead to her question, and was reminded of another evening almost three years ago, in the same city, but with a different girl.

“A few,” he answered, hoping it was too dark for Katara to catch his blush. Being as pale as he was, it was easy to notice. “I didn’t have a specific thing in mind, really. Is there somewhere you want to go?”

Katara shrugged. “I don’t know the… leisure parts of the city,” she replied, “Just… I trust you. Take me somewhere that…” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Somewhere that looks nice in the dark.”

Zuko turned to her and grinned, something mischievous in his eye. “I know just the place.”

* * *

The streets he led her through were golden with lanterns, and it wasn’t quite late enough in the evening for the locals to have gone to sleep. It was winter, still, and it was colder than ideal, but there was no snow or rain and the Earth Kingdom had its own version of the Midnight Festival.

Maybe it was because it was late, maybe it was because they didn’t notice, or maybe it was because people in the Upper Ring didn’t care so much, but no one bothered either of them as they walked through the streets. Perhaps the status of the Fire Lord and a Water Tribe Princess wasn’t that big of a deal to the upper classes of Ba Sing Se. Katara was grateful for the peace and quiet, though. Being out of the Palace didn’t count for much if the locals wanted to speak with them about politics and the city-state project.

They passed through the streets, a fair few people also wandering around, deep in conversation, many holding hands, or cups of tea, or both. It was nice to feel like she wasn’t being watched, for once, to relax like she’d been able to—somewhat—in the Jasmine Dragon.

“Am I allowed to ask where you’re taking me?” she asked.

“You’re allowed,” he replied, “But I won’t answer. It’s a surprise.”

Katara rolled her eyes, but didn’t protest. She could indulge him these occasional games. After a minute or so of silence, though, she asked, “How’s Azula?”

That question had bothered her on and off for a while, now. Days or weeks would pass and then something would remind her that there was a girl her own age in some Fire Nation cell; the Mad Princess who’d sought to kill her brother to please their father, who’d been crushed under the weight of her parents’ indifferences.

To anyone who didn’t know him, Zuko didn’t really react to this statement. But she did, and she saw the way his posture stiffened slightly, the way his jaw tightened, the light in his eyes turned a little dull.

“She’s… Azula,” he said eventually, “She’s angry. Hurt. I try to speak to her, to help her, but… I don’t think she wants the help.”

“Maybe she’s afraid to admit she wants it,” Katara said quietly. “She was always so strong-willed, insisted she didn’t need anyone’s help. If she admits she does… that’s one more bit of her identity chipped away.” She paused, turned to glance at Zuko, to see how he was staring straight ahead as they walked. His gaze was fixed rigidly on some unspecified point in the distance, as if he would start crying if he moved. “You know what it’s like, to not have your ‘self’ to fall back on, your whole worldview taken away at once.”

“I was lucky to have Uncle,” Zuko said, the closest Katara suspected she would get to an acknowledgement on this particularly painful topic.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just… I sometimes worry about her. She was horrible, and she tried to kill me, but…”

“She was a child,” he murmured, “We were all children.”

That they were. _Still_ were, really. How was it that children had succeeded in one summer what adults had failed to do in one hundred years? Sure, they’d had the Avatar on their side, but somehow she knew that was only part of it. Aang had allied himself with his peers; other children. He’d been taught to master the elements by other children. He’d stopped the war with the help of _other children_.

“The world always seems so simple when you’re a kid,” Katara said, “I guess… growing up is realising that it isn’t all black-and-white.”

“I think I was always afraid of that,” Zuko replied. “On some level I knew—me and Azula, we both knew. She was just better at ignoring it. Until she wasn’t.” And the result of that had broken her mind, possibly beyond repair.

“I’m sorry,” Katara said again, because she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not have Sokka at her back, being able to count on him, having him be anything but loving—if sometimes a little annoying. The idea that Sokka and Zuko, and her and Azula, could be so similar and yet so different was truly scary.

Zuko shook his head. “It’s not your fault she ended up like that,” he said, “And you managed to defeat her without injuring her. I couldn’t really have asked for more.” He shook his head again. “I know our temperaments are different, but I can’t help but wonder… if I’d done something. If my mother had done something—if _Uncle_ had done something… Maybe she would’ve turned out different. Maybe we could’ve saved her.”

“Who says she’s beyond saving now?” Katara asked, “You never know. It might take a while, but… she could come around. Once she isn’t so afraid of needing help. Maybe you could get Mai or Ty Lee to talk to her.”

“Maybe,” he muttered, but it was clear he wasn’t convinced and that his mind was on other things. “I don’t know if I could ever have children,” he then said.

Katara blinked at him. “What? Why?”

“Because… well, look at my family, Katara!” He gave a shallow, gasping laugh; derisive. “None of us got out unscathed. Uncle lost his son, Azula lost her mind, I… have _this_.” He gestured almost irritably to the scar on his face with his free hand. “I know it’s expected of me, but I don’t know if I could… do that.”

“Surely you’re not still afraid of turning out like Ozai?” Katara said softly, thinking of a summer day almost three years ago, of him sat on the edge of his bed and bowing into her, exhausted and terrified.

“I’m not,” Zuko promised, “I just… I need to remind myself what he was like. I need to… exercise caution.”

“I think you need to stop defining yourself by him,” she corrected mildly. “You’re not Ozai’s son. You’re _Zuko_. You’re your own person. Don’t let yourself be controlled by his shadow. If you’re afraid of him, then… he wins.”

He turned to her and offered a tired but genuine smile. “I guess you’re right,” he said. It was a long moment before he added, “I hope she’ll let me help her, one day. I want to help her.”

“People can be capable of great change,” she said encouragingly, squeezing her hands around his arm. “I mean, look at you—at Iroh. Between the two of you, I’m sure you can help her out of the darkness.”

Zuko’s smile was still so very tired, though now it was edged with hope. “I hope you’re right.”

Because really, he didn’t know what he’d do if he had to say goodbye to another member of his family forever.

* * *

Katara guessed where Zuko was taking her only moments before he decided to reveal it—because it involved going deep underground.

“The catacombs…” she murmured as they approached the old entrance. “I think Kuei mentioned he wanted to restore them.”

“They’re older than Ba Sing Se itself,” Zuko said, nodding, “And they sustained a lot of damage during… during the war,” he finished awkwardly. Truthfully, he hadn’t been sure if this was a smart move, taking Katara back to the place where he was betrayed her, where Azula had literally killed Aang. But they were starting to look so beautiful again, and they’d been the site of something quite precious to him, too.

The ghost of a memory, hands on the left side of his face, whispered across his skin. There was only one person other than himself who had ever touched his scar.

“Do you… want to go down there?” he asked. “They look truly beautiful, with all the crystals—”

“I remember,” Katara murmured softly. She gazed at the entrance for a long moment, in some kind of reverie, before suddenly snapping back to reality. She turned to him and smiled. “Let’s go in.”

Inwardly, she wondered what exactly she was agreeing to, because there was too much between them now for anything to be as simple as what it appeared on the surface. Dressing up as Blue Spirits, Zuko offering her his arm, taking her on a nighttime stroll. What exactly did it mean?

Zuko wondered the same. What did it mean when she took his arm? When he offered it to her in the first place? And what did it mean when they descended down into the stone caverns, the place where their relationship had shifted from enemies to something almost like friendship which, in his confusion and fear—both of what it had meant and of what Azula had taunted him about—had thrown away with shaking hands. Somehow, to the relief of them both, he had managed to claw it back, and for that it was stronger than it could have ever been before.

As they wandered down the path that led deep underground, the golden light of the lanterns and the sunset was replaced with the cool green glow of the crystals. It bathed them in a strange, almost alien light that made Zuko’s hair seem glossier than a ravencrow’s plumage and Katara’s eyes as blue-green as the coasts of Ember Island in the middle of the summer. As though the crystals themselves held memories of things that had transpired here, the deeper they went, the more Katara remembered. As though the light from the crystal, as it washed over them, brought those memories to the surface.

Eventually, they came to the exact spot they’d both stood almost three years previously, and they looked up at the high ceiling, at the elaborate carvings, dotted with glowing green crystal. For a long while they stood in silence, quietly awed by how much had changed since they’d last stood here.

“Do you regret it?” Katara asked, gently breaking the silence. Zuko, confused, turned his gaze from the ceiling to look at her.

“Regret what?”

“The choice you made,” she replied, “Here. Siding with Azula. And I don’t mean, do you think you did the right thing,” she added, “I mean… considering where you are now.”

Zuko considered this for a moment. “It was a long road,” he said slowly, “Getting from where I was when I first met you to standing in the Western Air Temple. Uncle said I… stumbled a few times. But I’m glad I did, because it meant I learned. You learn more from your failures than your successes.”

After a long pause, he then said, “But I regret hurting you.”

Katara looked at him. “We’re friends now, Zuko,” she said, “I… I’ve forgiven you for it. And I think you’re right, you needed to stumble.” He’d needed to get what he’d been yearning for, ever since he’d been thirteen, to realise how much he had changed; how skewed his worldview had been, how wrong it all was, what he’d really needed to do.

“I know,” he said, “But I still regret it. You trusted me, enough to offer me the Spirit Oasis water. …and I threw it in your face.” He remembered how distraught she’d looked, cradling Aang’s body, hair loose and flying. The picture of a spirit or even a goddess, wrathful and terrible and beautiful.

For the sake of his country and his people, for the sake of peace and harmony, he would sacrifice anything. Ending the war had become his single purpose, and maintaining peace was a part of that. Every single step on his journey had led to that, however small, however meandering. He’d needed to come back to the Fire Nation, that had been his turning point, and he wouldn’t dare change that for fear it might have changed the overall outcome—which, though difficult, he was unbelievably relieved by. A world at peace, where the Fire Nation was helping to heal injuries.

But if one thing tempted him, just a little, to want to go back and change something—just one thing—it was Katara. Standing here, three years ago, he would not have turned his back on her, he would have hoped that Aang and his Uncle would have taken just a few minutes longer to find and rescue them. Just to know if it was possible.

‘It’. The nebulous _it_. Because to voice _it_ or name _it_ or even really think _it_ was something he still couldn’t bring himself to do. For a hundred reasons he’d been over so many times. But all the same, he was curious, and a part of him was tempted.

“You threw yourself in front of lightning for me,” Katara said, unwittingly bringing to mind that moment from after, when he’d been recovering, and she’d thrown her arms around him and—

“I meant what I said then,” she added, a bit quickly. As if she, too was trying to distract her mind from that memory. “We need you. You’re completely forgiven. You’ve brought the Fire Nation—the world, really—into a new age.”

“You helped,” Zuko shrugged. He was incredibly aware that her hands were still around his arm, and at the same moment they both retreated from each other and stood a few feet apart, facing each other like they had before. “So did Aang.”

Something in Katara’s expression flickered at the mention of his name. “He did,” she agreed, “It was a team effort.”

“He’s the Avatar, though,” Zuko said, “He… had a bigger hand than I did.”

Katara shook her head. “He couldn’t have assumed the Fire Nation throne. He couldn’t have settled the people, appealed to them, like you do. You grew up in that culture, you have a more intimate understanding than Aang or me or anyone else in our group does.” She paused, then added, “Like I said before. We need you.”

Zuko knew then that she, too, was thinking of that day, the morning after the war had ended. _I need you._

“Aang is the Avatar,” Katara conceded, “But that doesn’t mean he’s… perfect. You should know, I complained about him enough,” she added, speaking quite fast and breathlessly, trying to get the words out quickly, because it still felt rude, even as she stood by her decision to break up with him.

“You seem happier,” Zuko murmured, “I’m sorry you two didn’t…”

“I’m not,” she said, “We work better as friends, and he needs to focus on his duties as the Avatar just like I need to focus on helping where _I’m_ most useful.”

“Like here?” he suggested, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, and Katara smiled back, warm and confident.

“Like here,” she agreed. She looked around at the cavern again. “I almost can’t believe how much has changed since we were last here. We’re such different people, living in such a different world.”

“Oh, I don’t think we’re that different,” Zuko said, “Not you, at least. You’re just as… determined, as hopeful. And me, I’m still stubborn, I’m just dedicated to something besides trying to kidnap one of our best friends.” They shared a small laugh at that.

“You know what, I think you’re right,” Katara said, smiling in that gentle, sweet way of hers. “It’s weird to think, though, isn’t it? How different everything is. Almost scary.”

“I’ll agree with you on that one,” he said, “But… you can’t give in to fear. Especially when it stands between something so wonderful.” He smiled fully, now. “Can you even imagine what the peninsula will look like once it’s finished? With people from all over the world, living together like in the colonies—but completely out of _choice?_”

She grinned back at him. “I know,” she said, “It’s… almost too crazy to believe—it’s _actually_ going to happen!” She shook her head, stunned. “But you’re right,” she then said, her voice softer, “You can’t give in to fear.”

He stole a glance at her, daring and furtive. Green didn’t become her like blue or red, but it made her ethereal as a spirit. He was reminded of the first masquerade, of the night afterwards, of the rain and the alleyway. “Just because you shouldn’t do something, doesn’t mean we don’t.”

“No…” Katara said softly, her gaze sliding inwards as she, too, thought of that night, of what had almost happened. Of what _had_ happened the day after the war. In this lighting, this harsh lighting, she could see every sleepless night stolen from him, every line on his scar, the hollow in his cheeks. He was better than he had been at the first Summit, but still far from healthy. He prioritised his country, his people, absolutely everything above himself. It might have broken her heart, if she let herself think about her heart in relation to him.

“I suppose we don’t."


	20. Unfair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the caves beneath Ba Sing Se, Zuko and Katara are finally confront feelings they've been grappling with for years. Unfortunately, they're also forced to confront several unpleasant truths.

They looked at one another, and the world seemed to stand still. Golden eyes staring into blue, both afraid to look away, even to blink, for fear of shattering whatever tethered them into a million shards of green crystal that would be blown away by a gust of air like so much glittering dust, no more substantial than a dream.

“I…” Zuko murmured, his voice little more than a whisper. “I have something to tell you.”

Katara nodded carefully, not daring to break his gaze. “I think I know what that is.”

They were facing each other, only a few feet of space between them, and they were standing on that exact spot. Something had shifted between them here three years ago. Neither of them had really let themselves think about it in too much detail, least of all now.

“You know I value your friendship, Katara,” he told her, his voice awkward, but he still held her gaze, because he was sure enough of himself that he knew he didn’t want to be the one to break it. Outside of his uncle, he was confident in saying that he was closer to her than anyone else. “I value all of you so much. If not for you and Sokka and Aang and Toph and Suki… I wouldn’t be anything close to who I am today.”

Katara swallowed. “Give yourself a little credit,” she mumbled. He quirked a small smile.

“I am,” he said, “But I didn’t get to where I am now without help.” His expression then sobered, and he shook his head slightly. It was for himself, a thought in his head, not for her. “I would never do anything to jeopardise our friendship,” he said, voice almost hoarse with how raw it was, how much he needed her to understand this. “Or Aang’s, or Sokka’s—any of you. You’re my family.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, because she felt the same. Sokka was, of course, her blood. But Aang, Toph, Suki and Zuko… they were all her family, too. It was impossible to go through what they had all gone through together and not retain some kind of unbreakable bond. People just didn’t work that way. “I think I know what you have to tell me,” she reiterated, very quietly.

Very slowly, very deliberately, Zuko closed his eyes, and the tension between them relaxed—just a little. “I think you do,” he agreed. “And I need you to know that I’m sorry. That I tried so hard to… to fight it.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Zuko,” she replied, “You didn’t… you haven’t done anything wrong. You never—I was the one—it…” She broke off, unsure of how to word these feelings inside her. The air around them was still and calm and silent, but inside both of them raged a storm; flashing lightning and roiling clouds.

Zuko took a tiny step closer, and his gaze on her burned, the fire in his eyes warming her skin. She suppressed a shiver. “You and Aang…” he murmured, voice low and rasping. “You’re my best friends. I told myself it would pass, that I could ignore it. But then I saw you at the first Summit… my memories didn’t do you justice. They never do, Katara. Never.”

“I…” She’d opened her mouth to say something, but she had no idea what to say.

“And then I saw how unhappy you were, and I just…” Zuko closed his eyes, shook his head again. He pressed his lips together, hard, for a few moments, like he was physically restraining the words threatening to spill from his mouth, a barrage of feelings, pent up for years, finally being freed in their raw, untampered forms. “I just wanted to help you. I swear. I didn’t have any other agenda, but it… it made me wonder if… When you broke up with Aang. And…” He broke off, feeling his face turn red as shame burned through him. His thoughts were so messy, everything about this was so _messy_.

“I wondered the same.”

Zuko opened his eyes and stared at her, stared at Katara because there was no way—no _way_—that she could have just said what he thought she did. This was Katara, the fierce girl who’d made clear to him every day they’d spent together exactly where they stood. There was no denying they’d built a strong friendship, that they trusted each other with their lives, but there was no room for romance in there—there just _couldn’t_ be. Because of her, because of him, because of Aang, because of the war, because he was Fire Lord.

Because, because, because.

“Don’t…” he said, “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

She looked up at him, eyes so bright in the glow of the crystals. “When have you ever known me to lie, Zuko?”

He swallowed, and she watched his throat bob. When he spoke, his voice shook, with something so much more substantial than terror. “When you—when you _kissed_ me after—after I woke up. It should’ve been Aang. We were just so, so overwhelmed by the fact we’d won—”

“No…” she said softly. “I kissed you because I wanted to.” Now she took a tiny step forward, and then they were standing in that strange place where they had invaded one another’s personal space, but they were still not quite close enough to touch.

That summed them up quite well, Katara thought. In one another’s personal space, but not quite close enough. That ill-defined between-space. The line between platonic and romantic affection that they had tread so precariously these past three years.

“I never asked…” Katara said quietly, under the glow of the crystals. “How… how are you?”

Zuko blinked at her. “Katara, you must ask me that more than anyone else I know—”

“No, I don’t,” she cut across, shaking her head, but holding his gaze steadily. “I ask how the Fire Nation is, how your politics are going. I don’t ask how _you_ are. Not as much as I should.” Against, probably, her better judgement, she reached out. A parody of three years ago. How was it that they could know so much about one another, and still, sometimes, feel like they knew nothing at all.

“I… I don’t know,” he replied, truthfully. “Some days, I think I can handle all of this. And then other days… You come and tell me that you wondered, too.”

Katara sighed, still touching his cheek. “I never really gave myself the opportunity, but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen,” she confessed. At first, she’d thought those strange thoughts had been because her and Zuko had always had a better understanding of each other’s problems than her and Aang, that she’d been frustrated by Aang’s inability to see things from her perspective. But then she’d talked over her problems with Zuko—and Sokka, and Suki, and her father, and Toph—and she’d broken up with Aang, and those thoughts had persisted.

“We… we couldn’t,” Zuko murmured. Where her hand touched his face, it was like tiny bolts of lighting fizzing and sparking across his skin. “I love Aang. I know you do, too. And I’m the Fire Lord. And you have your duties in the South Pole.” She was a born adventurer, destined to and yearning to help people wherever she could, however she could. He needed to remain in the Fire Nation, try to be as uncontroversial as possible, and quell the beginnings of a civil war by marrying someone suitable, and producing an heir—a _firebending_ heir.

Katara sighed again. “Zuko…” she said, “You of all people should know that things are never as simple as we want them to be.”

“Need them to be, more like,” he murmured. He wasn’t looking her in the eyes, now. His gaze was fixed squarely on her lips.

“Why did you bring me here, Zuko?” Katara asked him. “Why did you bring me to the place we…”

“Became friends? Became enemies?” How was her question supposed to end? He wasn’t even sure Katara herself knew.

“Why did you bring me here?” she repeated.

He swallowed again. “Do you remember… the Summit last year… We… we sparred. And you said you owed me a favour.” Katara nodded, but her eyes were confused. “I’d…” he faltered. “I was wondering if I could ask that favour, now.”

Katara smiled at him. “Sure, Zuko,” she replied. “What is it?”

His head was bowed, like he couldn’t bear—or didn’t want—to look at her. “Forgive me?” he muttered, closing his eyes.

The confusion got brighter, spreading out from her eyes to pull her mouth into a concerned frown. “Forgive you for what?” she asked. “Zuko, I forgave you years ago.”

“Not for that,” he told her, and he raised his head and took a final step forwards. Now they were standing so close, she could see his pulse thrumming in his throat, feel the heat from his body radiating off of him, and she was sure it was only partly because he was a firebender.

“For this.”

He moved slowly enough that she could’ve pulled away, or slapped him, or anything really. But she didn’t. She just watched, transfixed, as he slid a hand around her neck and tilted her head up. She just watched, dumbfounded, as he ducked his head and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss.

For a moment, she was frozen against him, aware only of the heat of his body, only an inch from hers, the burn where his lips touched her own. But it was soft, gentle and undemanding—the sweet flame of a candle, not a raging inferno.

Then she was on the precipice of a decision. Pull him closer, or push him away? He’d stop if she asked him to, if she gave the slightest indication she wanted to, she knew he would.

But she _didn’t_ want him to. She relaxed into his embrace, and this time there was no pain in his chest to mar the moment, no high of victory to cloud their minds. Her hands came to rest lightly on his chest, one sliding up over his shoulder, into his shaggy black hair and tangling there, keeping him pressed tight against her. His other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him. It was a kiss that made her knees feel odd, and her other hand fisted in his tunic, partly out of some dark need pooling in the base of her mind and her abdomen, partly for support—she was sure the ground was falling away beneath her.

He opened his mouth, and when the kiss deepened, she melted into him fully, and he was practically holding her up. They clung to one another, the vast world around them having shrunk to only this, only them, only now.

There was a rhythm to it, of how they moved against each other. Kissing used more than just the mouth, she realised. She’d never realised that with Aang. Kissing Aang had felt like children playing at being grown-ups; chaste and sweet. Nothing like this. This was a dance, or a sparring match—a battle with no real stakes; a battle for the sake of competition, almost. His mouth moved over hers and she began to understand the rhythm. Like Tui and La, it was the push and pull of the moon and the ocean.

Push and pull. Dark and light. Yin and yang.

Fire and water.

Soon, she had mastery of this movement, and pulled him closer to her, wrapping both her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him so hard surely he could feel her heartbeat. He responded in kind, his arms around her waist and shoulders so tight she thought she might break, but she wouldn’t have minded in the least. He was less gentle now, a dark, exciting power to his movements, to how he held her. He was so impossibly warm, like a fire burned underneath his very skin, and everywhere his bare skin touched hers it was like she came alight. She found him pulling strange noises from the back of her throat, keening and whining and stifled moans—she was embarrassed by them, a little, but when he made those same noises, in response to _her_, she realised, all she felt was pride.

Feeling emboldened by these strange little noises of his, she acted on her next impulse—was it instinct? She didn’t quite feel in control, like something deep inside herself was guiding her movements—and pulled back just far enough to bite his bottom lip.

He groaned and his entire body twitched like she’d shocked him. No, she then amended, not quite. That would imply he’d flinched away from her, when actually, he’d pressed himself closer.

Zuko pulled away from her mouth, and for a split second she thought she’d done something wrong, until he ducked his head and kissed her neck. A surprised, pleased gasp emerged from her lips. The sensation was unexpected, something more than nice, or sweet. It was… delicious? Running her hands over his back, feeling the muscles in his shoulders twitch under her touch, she bit her own lip this time, trying to stifle the noises in her throat from reaching her lips.

After several moments, she cupped his face in her hands, pulling him to her lips for another kiss before ducking her own head—not that she had to do much; with their height difference—and sealing her own lips on what she knew to be a pulse point.

He twitched again—_bucked_, the word came to her seemingly out of nowhere, but it fit—and fisted a hand in her hair, growling wordlessly. It wasn’t a threatening sound, but there was a dark sort of power to it. She decided she quite liked it.

A hand under her chin, he tilted up her head and, capturing her lips again, Zuko began walking forwards, guiding her backwards, until she felt her back press up against one of the pillars that held the cavern’s roof up. Feeling the cool stone pressed up against her spine, she suddenly decided she’d quite enjoy to be tightly pinned between it and him. She relished in the feeling of his body pressed against hers; through the silk robes he wore, she could feel acutely the planes and lines of his torso, and he could feel each curve of hers. She tucked a hand into the low collar of his overtunic, feeling the short-sleeved shirt underneath, then tucked her hand under that, too, and felt smooth skin over lean muscle. She felt a jolt of pain in her abdomen—but was pain really the word to describe it? It was a single throb, an ache, but it didn’t seem quite like _pain_—when he groaned into her mouth.

Zuko’s hands were firm on her waist—not around, _on_—and his head was bent at a sharp angle so he could kiss her whilst staying pressed right up against her. He pulled away just enough to break contact, still pressed flush against her, and planted one last, sweet kiss on her lips before daring to meet her heady gaze. They were only far enough apart so as to be able to speak, but they felt each other’s breaths on their lips as, for a few endless moments, they merely stared at one another in awe and panted gently. Zuko swallowed and licked his dry lips, but Katara was the one who spoke first.

“Zuko,” she said breathlessly, feeling warm all over, “I—”

“Forgive me,” he cut across, voice hoarse and husky. “I had to do that again. Just once.”

Katara was so stunned, she couldn’t formulate a response until he’d stepped back several paces and turned away, head bowed in shame. She reached out and caught his wrist. He grimaced.

“Wait,” she said softly, walking around to face him, still holding his wrist. His head was still bowed. “Zuko,” she implored. “Look at me.” Reluctantly, he did. “I’m not going to forgive you,” she said, and he flinched as if she’d slapped him. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

For a second, he didn’t seem to realise what she said, and when he understood, he stared at her like he couldn’t believe what she was saying. He probably couldn’t.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Zuko,” she said, honestly, “I don’t know how to begin to understand any of this.”

“What is there to understand, Katara?” he asked, almost pleading with her now. “I know—I know everything else is so complicated, but why can’t this one thing be simple? I—_I love you_.”

She stared at him, mouth falling open. Then she closed her eyes, because that was exactly what she’d feared.

“I love you too, Zuko,” she whispered. The words in her mouth should have tasted so sweet, but their finish was bitter with the knowledge that, ultimately, it didn’t matter. He knew that too, but that didn’t change the fact that some part of him still hadn’t dared hope she would ever say it back, and his sharp, stunned intake of breath was like a knife in her heart.

“You’re my dearest friend and I… I could never _lose_ you—” Her mind cast back to a time when she almost had, when she _thought_ she had. Her hands tingled with the faint memory of healing magic, a rough scar felt through silk. “But you know we can’t do this,” she said quietly. “You know we can’t.”

“I know,” he agreed, but he didn’t pull his hand from her grip. “I know.”

There were so many reasons why they couldn’t give in to this desire that burned through them, culminating in where Katara’s bare fingers wrapped around his wrist. They were Aang’s best friends, and after Katara had been the one to break up with _him_, doing this would break his heart. Zuko was the Fire Lord and needed to marry, he didn’t have the luxury of dating and figuring things out. The Fire Nation was already so spurned by the end of the War, crowning a Water Tribe girl Fire Lady could fuel the sparks of unrest into a civil war. Katara wanted to travel the world and adventure, and having a boyfriend with a permanent position—or a boyfriend at all, really—didn’t fit into that plan.

There were so many reasons, but in that moment, it was hard to think why even one of them really mattered. Why did any of it mattered, when they were stood before each other now, under cover of darkness, deep underground in a beautiful cavern of crystals?

“No harm’s been done, yet,” she told him, “No one—no one _saw_ and, and—”

“You want to pretend like this didn’t happen?” Zuko asked hollowly, “Like none of this matters? Like I don’t love you? Like _you_ don’t love _me?_”

Katara swallowed, tears stinging her eyes. “Zuko, I think—I think we _have_ to.” She knew she needed to let go of his wrist. She couldn’t bring herself to actually do it, though.

Zuko nodded, but didn’t speak. For a long while—it could have been moments or hours; how could they tell, with no natural daylight, and all these messy, messy thoughts running through their bodies—they just stood there, awkwardly. Katara’s hand still clutching his wrist. If she let go, would all this vanish, once more cast into a world of dreams and _what if_?

“Katara,” Zuko said eventually, breaking the silence, and she looked up from her hand to stare at him, desperately. “You need to let go of me.”

_Let go of me_. It sounded so final. But she knew he was right. Taking a shuddering breath, he felt her fingers twitch around his wrist as she prepared to release her grip.

Then her grip tightened, and she yanked him forwards, catching him off guard enough that he went without resistance, crashing into her. His lips found hers, hungry and wanting, and he put a hand behind her head to hold her against him, each kiss more desperate than the last.

“I had to let go of you here, once,” Katara muttered between kisses, both of her hands cupping his face, keeping his lips a mere breath from hers. “Don’t make me do it again.”

“I left you behind here, once,” he replied, stroking a hand through her long, dark curls, wishing her could wrap them around his fingers and be tethered to her, forever. He’d be content to follow her wherever her heart desired, if it meant he could be at her side. “It was the worst mistake of my life.”

Her cheeks were wet, Katara thought. Why were her cheeks wet? After a moment, it dawned; she was crying. Crying at the unfairness of it all.

“No one can know,” she repeated, as if he wasn’t already well aware. It was either them or everyone else. Someone had to suffer. And they were both far too stubborn and far too self-sacrificing to throw their best friend and indeed the safety of the Four Nations themselves into peril for their own sakes.

“Just once,” he whispered, stroking a thumb across her cheek, wiping away the tears, lost in the supreme blueness of her eyes. He’d never seen a blue quite like it. Not in the sky or the sea or in any of the sapphires in the Palace. “Just once… I’d like something to be simple.”

Katara chuckled underneath her tears, covering his hand with her own, curling her fingers around and bringing it to her lips for a kiss. “Nothing with us has ever been simple,” she murmured against his skin.

“So, what now?” he asked, resting his free hand on her waist. “We go back up there and pretend like nothing happened? I pretend you don’t love me?”

“It worked after the war ended,” she muttered.

“It didn’t,” he said simply, “You had Aang, and I had Mai. And you were too kind to be honest with Aang from the start.” Kindness had never been Mai’s strong point, but it had led to them breaking up much more quickly and probably much more amicably than if they’d kept their mouth shut.

Katara looked up at him, almost annoyed. “I love Aang.”

His expression was carefully neutral, and his gaze was steady. “I never said you didn’t. But you love him like a brother. Otherwise, you’d be engaged to the Avatar and the whole world would be watching. Not in the caves of Ba Sing Se with the _last_ boy anyone with an ounce of political sense would want.”

She scowled at him, now, hating that he was right. “I don’t want to pretend, Zuko. You think I _liked_ pushing you away? You think I _want_ to—to go back up there and pretend nothing happened? That this doesn’t _mean_ something?”

He smiled gently. “You’re too selfless to do anything else,” he told her. “That’s part of why I love you.”

When he said it this time, she flinched, and his expression turned desperate. “Let me say it,” he said, “Here, where no one can hear us, where no one can see us. If you want me to go up there and act like this didn’t happened, let me have that. Katara, _please_.”

She shook her head. “If I let you do that, I’ll let you do all the things that come after that,” she said, “Just—_look_ at us, Zuko! How many times did we almost do… _something_ at the Summits? With Aang and all our friends _right there!_ And now we’re alone for a few hours and _this_ happens! We can’t! It just won’t work!”

“I know, I knw it won’t work,” he admitted, “But does that mean you have to do _this?_ If you love me even a fraction of how much I’ve loved you, this must be killing you, Katara. It _hurts_. It _hurts_ knowing I can’t go up there and kiss you in the sunlight. So can’t we just have this? Now? Here? Just give me—give _yourself_ something. _Please_.”

_It’s okay to be selfish._

She remembered what he’d told her at the Summit last year, before they’d gone off to spar with each other, before their healing session. She remembered how he’d berated her for always, unendingly, putting everyone before herself, to the point she was starting to resent the boy she loved like a brother, to the point she would condemn herself to a life of unhappiness with him.

Zuko’s expression was so desperate, she was almost surprised he wasn’t on his knees. He looked pretty close to doing that as it was already. So she ducked her head, closed her eyes, and sighed.

If things got out… it would end badly. People would get hurt. People they loved. If they—if _this_—ever saw the light of day, they were doomed.

“Okay,” she breathed, and he let out such a huge gasp that she was immediately sure he’d been holding his breath. “Okay. Just until—until I have to go home. Only whilst we’re away from everyone else.” Looking up at him, she was struck by how beautiful he was, beaming down at her, eyes hot with a different kind of fire. She was baffled that she’d managed to suppress those feelings for so long.

Except she hadn’t, she thought. She’d just quietly ignored them, and he’d done the same. Until now.

He kissed her again, and it was so sweet, so soft and so gentle, she almost started crying again. It was so… _unfair_. Childish as it sounded, it _was_. Like Oma and Shu. The lovers having to hide in the tunnels, in caves lit by crystals. Only under cover of darkness could they hope to be together and keep their families happy.

* * *

It was almost dawn when the two lovers emerged from the cave, faces flushed from kisses and sweet nothings and embraces. Almost. Not quite. The sun had yet to reach high enough in the sky to touch the city of Ba Sing Se with its rays, and under cover of darkness, they slipped back into the Palace, into their separate rooms. Katara washed away all the traces of her make-up, and with it all the traces of it’s being smudged. Zuko washed away the hours spent deep underground, the earthy scent, and with it, the light, sweet smell of the sea and ice.

The next morning, King Kuei summoned his two guests to the dining room and as a trio, they set about making plans, starting construction, and rehousing the dual-nationals in as efficient and ordered a manner as possible. The servants, with their keen eyes and keener gossip, did not have any sideways glances to speculate about, any casual touches, any half-caught words of sweetness. The Fire Lord and the Water Tribe Princess were dear friends, jovial and well-matched, but friends only.

After all, it was daylight. And life is unfair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came so, _so_ close to marking this fic as 'complete' after this chapter. It's a nice ending, and this thing is already seriously long, but I don't really _do_ bittersweet. Lucky for you guys. If this were a real book, this would be the end of Part 1. Part 2 will soon commence.


	21. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Katara have finally confessed their feelings to one another, but they both know that the world they live in would not allow for their romance to continue. For the sake of those they love and the peace between the Four Nations, they must turn their backs on their feelings, and each other.
> 
> But easier said than done.

The next few days passed as though they were leading two separate lives. During the day, Katara oversaw the development of plans for creating a semi-independent city-state and Zuko discussed with Kuei about how to handle the initiation of a government that would oversee citizens of all Four Nations.

Once the sun went down, they weren’t diplomats, but lovestruck teenagers. When darkness covered the world and responsibilities fell away, they could pretend—however briefly—that this was anything but extremely temporary. They wore plain clothing and covered their faces, they wandered the streets of Middle Ring like everyday citizens, holding hands and stealing kisses. They found large, open fields and sparred not because they needed to know how to fight, but because they both loved how it felt to move somehow in synchrony and yet opposed at the same time, always coming to a draw. They talked over cups of tea, always saying they knew a place that made it better, never saying why they didn’t—_couldn’t_—go there.

Yin and yang. Push and pull. Fire and water. Two sides of the same coin, meant to be together, but never touching.

On Katara’s last day in Ba Sing Se, Zuko found the daring to sneak directly into her room, and they lay side by side on her bed, holding hands like children in a story. They spoke about home, about the Kya School, about Sokka and Hakoda and Pakku and Gran-Gran. Everything except what was staring them in the face.

Come sunrise, this would have to stop.

Zuko could hardly remember a time where he hadn’t loved Katara in some way. The memories of when he’d pursued her as an adversary seemed hazy and inexact; blurred by how much had changed, how far he had come. He only remembered her as his friend, as his ally, and even though it had only been a short while, his star-crossed lover.

He couldn’t remember at all a time where he hadn’t admired her. Even as he’d raged at being outwitted, he had to admit he’d been impressed by her skill, her resolve. Qualities every Fire Nation citizen admired. He knew some, like Zhao, would never have dared compliment an enemy, never have wanted to encourage those attributes in someone they wanted to defeat, but Zuko had always been more forgiving of those he stood against. It was in his nature to try and see the best in people. And the best in Katara was so very incredible, he could hardly believe she loved him back.

Not that it mattered, ultimately. Not that any of their feelings mattered. And as they lay in the moonlight together, they at last breached that fateful subject.

“I wish it could be another way…” Katara said softly, rolling onto her side to curl into him. It was so wonderful to lie next to him like this. He was so warm, his embrace so strong. She felt safe in his arms—which was maybe a little ironic, considering how they’d first met.

“Me, too,” Zuko sighed, not even trying to protest, because though he loved her, they both knew he loved his country and people too much to abandon them for something as petty as his own heart. He turned his head to kiss the top of her hair.

She turned her head to look at him, imagining a world where they could be together without hurting those they held dearest. A world where the Fire Nation’s peace didn’t depend so harshly on the marriage choice of a twenty-year-old. A world where the Avatar could move beyond the childish hang-up of a first love and a first heartbreak. Katara knew that was unfair, knew that Aang would never intend to hurt her, but also knew that he would never be comfortable with her and Zuko. It was one thing for her to fall in love with another Fire Nation boy, or an Earth Kingdom boy, but _Zuko?_ It would sting, and he would not be able to let it lie.

Even here, she was holding back. Holding his hand, lying on her back by his side, almost like how she and Sokka had lay in those first few nights after her mother had died; holding on to one another in a storm, desperately clinging to the only thing that kept her steady and stopped her from falling apart.

She couldn’t force change, she knew that. She knew better than to try and work against the flow of the tides. Even a hundred waterbenders couldn’t force the ocean to move in a way it didn’t want to, they needed to work with the water to achieve their ends. And she was only one. A master, but still only one.

“What would you do,” she whispered to him, across this great chasm, over which they made a bridge from their joined hands, “If we could have the sunlight?”

A small smile tugged at his mouth and her heart. “I’d take you on a walk around the city,” he said, “Show you the apartment Uncle and I lived in when we were refugees. Take you to my favourite restaurant in the Middle Ring.” He paused, swallowed, then added, “…kiss you goodbye tomorrow morning.”

He would run his hands up and down her sides, pulling her close as he kissed her. He would nip the corners of her mouth until she opened hr lips to him and taste her. He would lift her above so he could feel the weight of her pressed close against him. He would do anything and everything she wanted to make her happy, to make her whisper his name as reverently as she would a spirit’s; like a prayer or a plea. So very many things that could only be permitted to those who had the sunlight as well as the moonlight. Straying too close to those particular flames, and—firebender or no—they would both burn up, hurting themselves and everyone within reach.

“I’d like that,” she sighed, turning away from him to once again stare at the canopy above her bed. She’d like a great many more things, but it was dangerous, swimming in those waters. Too far out, too deep, and they would be swept away; helpless against the greater currents.

Zuko couldn’t force change, he knew that. Otherwise, when he’d overthrown his father, his guards would have let him be assassinated, there would have been more attempts. The people in the Fire Nation had wanted change as much as him, and together they had carefully cultivated that flame, making sure to never let it burn out of control. But he was only one firebender, and he’d been burned before.

Fire was the element of power, emphasising desire and the will to achieve one’s ends. Sometimes, he thought, Katara was more like a firebender. There was no denying she was powerful, but more than that, who else encapsulated sheer force of will so acutely? She was determined and stubborn, she would stop at nothing to succeed in her goals—it just so happened that those goals were fighting injustice and helping those who couldn’t help themselves.

Those goals never seemed to have _her_ in them. She was always looking to help others, never to make a name for herself, always putting others needs and wants before her own. It had been the undoing of her and Aang, but it was one of the reasons he loved her.

He pulled his hand from hers and turned so he was lying on his side, looking at her. She looked back at him, eyes bright as the moon. He propped his head up on one elbow, and with his now-free hand, stroked the thick curls of hair that splayed out across her pillow. “Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Sure,” she replied, turning to face him, curling her hands underneath her cheek. “What is it?”

Zuko was quiet for a long moment before. “When did you first start to… see me like this?”

She watched him for a moment. “You mean when I first had a crush on you?” she asked. He nodded. “Well, uh… I think it was when we were trapped in the caverns together.”

He blinked. “Wasn’t that the first time we’d been around each other and not fought?” he asked.

Katara gave a shrug, almost sheepish. “It was the first time we’d actually… _talked_. And I could see the real you, because all your anger and hurt had cleared away. Plus—” She grinned. “—you’d gotten rid of that awful ponytail.”

He scowled at her. “I had other things on my mind than my hairstyle back then,” he said, then smiled, “Like a certain waterbender.”

She stared. “You had a crush on me _before_ the cave? All I did was fight you!”

Zuko flushed a little. “You say that like it was a _bad_ thing,” he said, “I dated Mai for a year and we both know she could beat me in a fight with those knives of her. And that summer… you were probably the first girl I’d spoken to in months. Certainly the first _pretty_ girl. And you looked so fierce…” He trailed off a little as he smiled, remembering.

Now Katara was flushing. “I suppose there was… something kind of intriguing about you,” she admitted, “I just thought it was because I hated you so much.”

Twisting to lie on his back, Zuko shrugged. “I think love and hate are more similar than people realise,” he said, “I think the opposite of love is not caring. If you don’t care about someone, you don’t hate them.”

Carefully, he outstretched one arm, sliding it between Katara’s shoulder and head. She flushed a little more and moved closer so her head was on his shoulder. She fit so perfectly against him. “That sounds about right…” she murmured, thinking of the people she’d hated, thinking of the people she hadn’t cared enough to hate. Looking back, she was struck by how intense hr hatred of Zuko had become. Only after Ba Sing Se. She’d _disliked_ him before, of course. But nothing so hot and potent until after that day in the caverns.

“Life would be easier if we didn’t care so much, huh?” Katara murmured.

Zuko closed his eyes a moment, imagining a world like that, and hating it. “It would,” he agreed, “But I don’t think either of us would be happy.”

“No, me neither,” she agreed. A world where a young man hadn’t cared enough about other people to question his father. Where a young woman hadn’t cared enough about a stranger boy to help him save the world. A world where they never would have found each other, even though it still meant they couldn’t be together.

“Even after all of this… I don’t think I would change a thing,” she told him.

“I would,” Zuko replied, “I would’ve joined you all back in Ba Sing Se.” Not just because it was the right thing to do, because he would’ve been able to teach Aang longer, but because maybe—just maybe—if he’d been on their side on the day of Black Sun, maybe they would be in a different situation right now.

“You know I don’t blame you for that, right?” Katara said, and he nodded. Reaching up, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek, then snuggled into him again. “I’m… I’m going to miss being able to do this,” she admitted. The prospect of being back in the South Pole, unable to hold him, kiss him, to tell anyone about him, was daunting.

Zuko hummed in agreement. “You know we have to,” he said heavily.

“I know…” she admitted, her words softening as she became tired, reaching an arm across his chest to hug him tight. He relished the sensation, knowing he would never feel it again.

“You don’t think Yue’s going to blab to the others?” Katara teased, but her words were heavy with sleepiness. Zuko glanced out the window, at the moon in the sky, it’s soft, pale light bathing them both fondly. Only Yue would ever see them like this. Not Sokka, not Hakoda, not Iroh or Toph or Aang or anyone else.

“No,” he whispered, watching her drift off. “I think she can keep a secret.”

* * *

The next morning, as Katara bid goodbye to King Kuei, she tried not to make too much eye contact with Zuko, tried not to let herself return the sly smile spread across his face. King Kuei was, admittedly, unobservant, but after Long Feng he had become much less gullible and was doing his best to stay aware of what happened throughout his kingdom, never mind in his own palace.

“Your help was invaluable, Master Katara,” Kuei said warmly, “I wish you a safe journey home, but remember that you are welcome as my guest whenever you choose.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Katara smiled, bowing to him respectfully. “And I look forward to seeing you at the next Summit in a few months. You have yet to visit the South Pole, am I correct?”

“I haven’t!” Kuei said brightly, “Me and Bosco are both very excited.” Behind him, Bosco huffed, but Katara wasn’t sure if that was coincidence or if Bosco cared—or even understood—what Kuei had said.

“Remind me to show you the fishing fields,” she said, “The tastiest fish in the world are fresh from under the ice!”

Bosco huffed again, sounding considerably more interested—he seemed to understand the word ‘fish’ at least. Zuko chuckled, then turned away to hide it.

“That sounds wonderful!” Kuei grinned, “And please, extend my well-wishes to your brother and Chief Hakoda.”

Katara nodded. “I will. My father will be very pleased that you were as interested in his proposals as he was.” The list Hakoda had pestered about for days had been unexpectedly well-received. He would no doubt be delighted.

Kuei then had to excuse himself—ever sine having become a governing king, rather than a mere figurehead, his duties were seemingly endless. Watching him head back inside the palace, Zuko turned to Katara and smiled, but his eyes were sad. It had been a lot easier to set themselves the limit of Katara’s visit when that had been several days away. Now that they were at the end of that period, Zuko realised that he would give anything—_anything_—just for one more day.

Well. Not anything. They were both too selfless to give _anything_.

“I’m…” Zuko began, then hesitated. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you, too,” she admitted, unsure if she should—_could_—take a step towards him. What were they, now? The space between them felt gaping, like a canyon, but at the same time it felt like there was nothing between them at all, and they were kissing in the caverns again, lit by crystals.

“This… I mean, you… We… I liked being able to—to share this time with you,” he said awkwardly. It felt so stiff and formal, but what did you say in a situation like this? How did you say goodbye to someone you loved without touching them?

“Me, too…” Katara muttered, not quite meeting his eyes. She, too, seemed unsure of how exactly to conduct herself.

On a spur-of-the-moment decision, he lurched forwards and pulled her into a tight hug. They’d hugged before, long before anything had existed between them, and it felt so indescribably good to hold her in his arms, even for this brief moment, even though it could only be a hug.

“_I’ll miss you_,” he said again, but it struck differently this time. It struck differently when he whispered it into her ear, she could feel his breath tickling her skin, know her hair was tickling his lips. It struck different with his arms tight around her, so sure and steady but at the same time so uncertain. 

It struck different when she knew he wasn’t saying goodbye because she was returning to the South Pole.

“I’ll… I’ll miss you, too,” she repeated, voice shaking. Then they broke apart, slowly and awkwardly and reluctantly, and Katara turned towards the carriage that would take her to the coast, and Captain Nakai. Climbing in, she waved to Zuko out of the back window until he was merely a tiny red speck in her vision, then she sat down and pulled the thick blankets around herself, even though she wasn’t cold in this Earth Kingdom climate, she just missed the sensation of having something wrapped around her.

Fixing her gaze on the road ahead, she tried to ignore the pain in her chest. It was different to when she’d broken up with Aang. That had been painful, but there had almost ben a sense of relief, too. Something bad and good being cut away—she had been released as well as hurt. But this? It didn’t feel so good and sensible right now. Every moment she was half convinced she was going to jump to her feet and sprint back to the palace, throwing herself into Zuko’s arms and kissing him like she had under the crystals.

She knew this was the right thing to do. But why did it feel so wrong?

* * *

All the same, Katara was relieved to return home to the South Pole, to report back to her father and further cement her position as a diplomat as well as a warrior. Injustice came in many forms, and required many different solutions to overcome. She liked a good fight, but there was a certain thrill that came with winning someone over by virtue of words alone that was almost as invigorating.

Now that the Midnight Festival had passed, the South Pole was in full swing as they scrambled to get everything prepared for the next Summit. A swathe of new huts had been built, the meeting hall was being upgraded with more elaborate décor, and several people from the neighbouring sub-Tribes had temporarily moved to help with the work or simply to get a closer seat to the eventual political action.

The new huts were probably Katara’s favourite part of the whole thing; ever since the end of the war, pretty much the entire South Pole had been rebuilt, with people finally having the time, resources and men to build proper shelters out of ice and snow instead of flimsy sealskin and twigs. The shape of the huts ensured the heat stayed inside, and it was warm enough with a fire burning that Katara could sleep in her underclothes, if she really wanted.

Most of all, she was hoping that after the Summit, she could have a hut of her own—simply take up residence in one of the huts being built for the delegates. By the time the Summit arrived, she would be eighteen years of age—a woman by anyone’s standards—and she wanted the independence that came with that. She’d always been pretty self-sufficient, and having a place to call solely her own was one perk of that.

It was a little unusual that, at almost-eighteen, no one had approached her about marrying, but to be fair, she’d been with Aang up until recently, and as she’d understood it, Air Nomads tended to get married when they were older; in their twenties. Possibly a result of their peaceful, carefree lifestyle was that they weren’t so eager to get tied down so decisively quite as early; they preferred to spend more time exploring.

And, truthfully, Katara had been fine with that—she wanted a few years’ worth of exploring herself. Having a boyfriend or a husband had never really factored into her plans. One of the many reasons why… why…

Why she and Zuko simply wouldn’t work together.

She shook herself, forcing the thoughts away, not letting herself think about all that. She was fine with not having been pursued because she didn’t _want_ to be pursued—not by Aang, not by Zuko, not by _anyone_.

Her father had expressed some subtle concern on that front; it was very unusual that a young woman of her status, skill and beauty had not had any potential suitors coming her way. Maybe they weren’t interested (she was fine with that), or maybe she intimidated them (she was _very _fine with that), or maybe they simply realised that she had more interesting things to concern herself with, like the construction of the city-state and the continuing peace between the Four Nations.

Marriages in the South Pole were never arranged, unlike in the North, and that was the reason Gran Gran had moved there in her youth. Of course, now she was married to Pakku of her own choice, but Katara could tell that some of the other Northerners who’d moved South to help rebuild and repopulate thought it was weird enough that the South didn’t live in one huge, homogenous Tribe, never mind that marriages just… _happened_. Even with the ‘royal family’, marriages were a matter of free choice.

Perhaps, she thought, it was because she wasn’t the oldest child. Sokka and Suki were still so clearly infatuated with one another, it was obvious that they were going to marry and have children—it was just a question of _when_. Katara was free to pursue her own interested—whether they included marriage or not—because she wasn’t the ‘heir’ to the title of Head Chief of the Southern Tribe.

However, with the influx of other Southern Water Tribe members helping to rebuild had come, predictably, a lot of capable young men of _perfect_ marrying age. Many were also the sons of the sub-Tribes’ Chiefs, as was to be expected when the South had such a strong tradition of sisterhood, family and its own brand of ‘honour’. Of course the other Chiefs were helping with the Summit—they would all be in attendance themselves, even if they were primarily speaking through Hakoda, like Bumi spoke through Kuei.

But that had also meant a lot of age-appropriate and ‘rank-appropriate’ (not that anyone cared about that part) young men had been strutting about the Tribe like so many peakcockfowl. Katara had noticed, but had decided not to acknowledge them—let them bend over backwards if they wanted, but she didn’t care what they thought, or what they wanted. Besides, none of them had had the guts to come forward and actually _talk_ to her, and she was willing to bet not one of them knew what she was actually _like_.

Sure, they knew she was a waterbending Master, that she had helped the Avatar restore balance, that she had defeated the Mad Princess in single combat. But did they know she loved penguinsledding? Did they know she was actually growing to quite like the spicier Fire Nation cuisine? Did they know she wanted to travel the world, helping wherever, whenever and however she could?

Or did they just see a pretty face and a step to status, like Yue’s betrothed, Han? She shuddered, then remembered that she didn’t actually know what had _happened _to Han. She’d never seen him after the siege. Thinking on this, she decided it was probably better not to know, and turned her thoughts to other matters.

Like how, even weeks later, it still hurt to think of Zuko. How her skin still tingled at the memory of his fingers, her lips burning. Late at night, when the world was dark and silent and there were no distractions to aid her, her mind invariably drifted to him. She wondered what he was doing at that moment, if he was eating enough, sleeping enough, if he was thinking of her.

She began counting down the days until the Summit arrived. It was partly because she was excited to do more work, to know if the plans for the colony reformation were going well, but with each passing day she had to admit to herself that more and more it was because she was going to see him again.

To see him, but not to touch him. Not to kiss him. They would have to pretend nothing had happened in Ba Sing Se. They would have to, for the sake of their friends, their families, for possibly the Four Nations themselves. She wondered, would that be worse? Having him so close, within reach, and not being able to do anything about it, to calm the raging waters inside her mind? Her body?

She hadn’t realised until now that it was possible to ache for someone; to physically ache for them. But it was. And she did. Worst of all, she knew that acting on those desires would bring only disaster. She wondered if engaging the interest of a few sub-Tribe Chiefs’ sons would be so bad; if one could maybe offer a distraction, if only briefly, to take away from the pain, and make hr mind think of something—some_one_—else.

But she knew it would be no use. Those boys didn’t know her. They didn’t fascinate her. They didn’t grin with pride when she knocked them on her feet with waterbending, a strange fire alighting in their eyes. They hadn’t seen her face the man who’d killed her mother. They hadn’t seen her fight Azula. They hadn’t been the ones whose injuries and near-death had almost made her heart stop as if _she_ had been the one struck by lightning.

As the weather became warmer and the Summit came closer, Katara’s excitement and yearning turned more and more to fear and concern. Not just about Zuko, but everything. What if this year something went wrong? What if Aang, after how the last Summit had ended, was still so hurt that he did something to endanger the proceedings? What if the colony reformations fell through?

“Katara,” Sokka said gently, when she confessed, begrudgingly, that she was worried about the Summit, now only a week away. “It’s natural to be nervous. We’ve never hosted before. But everyone—_everyone_—wants these to go well. The last two, did. People are expecting diplomacy and a fun weekend, no one’s looking out for war.”

_But what if me and Zuko give something away?_ She wondered. What about the other Chiefs? About the Fire Council? About Aang?

Maybe she shouldn’t see him at the Summit, she thought. Maybe she should avoid him, not let herself be alone with him, limit contact so she could stay professional.

She loved her brother; a genius when it came to machines and battle strategy, but he’d always been so blind when it came to people. Not in a callous way, but he’d never learned the ways people’s minds worked; not how she had. Over the years, she had become adept at understanding how people thought, how they behaved.

“I don’t think you realise just how fragile peace can be, Sokka,” she murmured, “All it takes is one mistake at the right time, and everything we’ve worked for will come crashing down.”

Sokka stepped forwards, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me, Katara,” he said earnestly, “Me, Dad, Suki, everyone at these Summits, _we_ all want peace. We’d all die to protect it, just like we all would’ve died to get it in the first place.”

Katara stared up at him. “That’s just it!” she exclaimed, “I don’t want anyone else to die! I won’t let anyone else get hurt. If this goes wrong—if something happens now, it’ll be my fault! Because—because I’m the one who betrayed Aang, and—”

“Whoa!” Sokka cried, “Who said anything about _betraying_ Aang? You broke up with him; that’s not a betrayal, you guys just didn’t work out.”

“I… I suppose,” Katara said, blushing furiously. How could she be so careless? She’d almost let slip the one thing she couldn’t tell anyone. If Sokka found out, he would be disappointed in her, she was sure. That she would do that to Aang, that she would jeopardise the Fire Nation’s precarious peace. Her father would be even _more_ disappointed, to say nothing of the other Chiefs. They would write her off as a flighty, senseless, lovestruck little girl who couldn’t be trusted with anything of real importance if she couldn’t even keep her own feelings in check.

She could even threaten the Southern Tribe’s status as a whole. _Look who they put in charge of their delegations to the Earth Kingdom. A seventeen-year-old girl who played with the Avatar’s feelings and then the Fire Lord’s. She’ll start another war all on her own if she doesn’t control herself!_

Katara shuddered again, making Sokka look at her with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“I’m fine,” Katara managed. It felt uncomfortable, lying to Sokka. The words felt too large and spiky in her mouth; they were wrong and ugly but she was saying them all the same. Because the alternative would be even worse. “It’s just—nerves. I really want this Summit to go well.”

Sokka smiled at her, in that big-brother way of his. Approaching nineteen, he was a man as much as Zuko was, and it was beginning to show. Every day he looked less like the young boy who’d poked a glowing iceberg and more like a younger, less war-torn version of their father. One who had never stopped dreaming of a brighter future, and not had to complete that long struggle back to hope and laughter. His mind was as sharp as any, his heart as good and kind. Though he infuriated her at time, Katara couldn’t think of anyone she would rather have at her back. Sure, Aang was the Avatar, and Zuko was a master bender, but Sokka was a master swordsman and her brother. He’d been her first ally, and he’d weathered everything she had.

And she couldn’t tell him how she was feeling. She loved him, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Even though he might be the only person who might understand. In love with a royal, knowing they were unattainable, knowing tradition dictated someone more powerful, someone more similar, someone that quite simply _wasn’t him_.

_Yue, help me_, Katara thought desperately, content to beg the Moon Spirit’s help in the safety of her mind, knowing spirits didn’t talk, knowing they could keep secrets. _You might be the only one who can_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah! There was an especially long gap for this one lads, and I'm sorry! You'd think a global outbreak of a deadly disease would make university lecturers back off on the assignments, but you'd be wrong! Good news is, I only have one left and I only have two exams. Unable to venture into The Great Outdoors, I daresay the updates will be coming a little more regularly not too far into the future. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of 'Part 2'!


	22. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third annual Summit approaches, and Katara, Sokka and Hakoda are eager to showcase to the world everything the Southern Water Tribe has to offer. But amid cheerful greetings and stunning announcements, Katara questions what she wants from her life now that she is free to pursue anything she wants—except for one thing.

The day before the Summit was due to start, Aang arrived from the Southern Air Temple.

“We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow evening!” Suki exclaimed as Aang dismounted Appa and opened his arms wide for a hug.

“I know,” Aang admitted, “But I figured you guys wouldn’t mind one extra night—and it’s been so long since I’ve seen all of you!” Appa groaned in agreement, giving Sokka a huge lick.

“_Eurgh!_” Sokka whined, stepping back and wiping himself down. Aang, not particularly caring, gave him a hug anyway, and when they parted, Sokka rubbed his head. “You know, we invited you to the Midnight Festival.”

Aang nodded. “I know,” he repeated, “But I was just so busy at the Air Temple—and Air Nomads don’t really celebrate that sort of thing, anyway. We get proper days and nights all year round in all of the Temples.”

“I remember,” Sokka nodded, but then the conversation fell abruptly silent as Katara approached, and suddenly everyone had their eyes either on her or Aang. All of them were caught between wanting to give the two of them privacy, and listening in on how they would react. The last time Aang and Katara had seen each other had been the day after the Summit the previous year, the day after Aang had proposed and Katara had broken up with him. Aang had left without saying goodbye to her; without so much as _looking_ at her, and Katara hadn’t said anything.

She didn’t regret breaking up with him; not then, and not now, but she knew he would be hurt and was more than willing to let him take the time he needed to come to terms with it. He was entitled to feel how he felt as much as she was.

But now, facing him, seeing him for the first time in a whole year, it felt different. He’d grown again, and was now a half-head taller than her, catching up with Zuko and Sokka. He’d filled out, too, but he was clearly always going to be slender where Sokka was stocky and lithe where Zuko was athletic. He looked different, and now that she was faced with him, she was almost scared.

Had he found out about what she and Zuko had done? Had he forgiven her for breaking his heart? Was he going to be bitter and angry towards her? Was he going to ignore her entirely? Her heart was in her throat, a lump she couldn’t swallow. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to run or not, but was unable to move her legs, rooted where she stood.

Aang’s face split into a grin. “Katara!” he said, opening his arms and stepping forwards. “It’s so good to see you!”

Katara let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Suddenly, she could move again, and the lump in her throat was gone, and she, too, rushed forwards to sweep him into a tight hug, laughing where only moments ago she wondered if she would cry.

“It’s good to see you, too, Aang,” she said, and she meant it, “How’re things at the Air Temple?”

“Slow going, but we’re getting there,” he replied as they broke apart.

And that, it seemed, was that.

* * *

That night, for the first time in months, Katara did not sleep a wink. Seeing Aang smile had been an unspeakably large relief, but still, she worried. Zuko was going to arrive tomorrow, and would anyone clock? Had a watchful servant told Kuei? Would one of their friends notice something different and connect the dots? Would Toph, with her ability to hear heartbeats, catch one or both of them in a lie?

Her father had given her a hut of her own a few days prior. She was an adult, a young woman who would be speaking to any number of delegates and ambassadors, advising not just on the politics and policies of the Southern Tribe, but personally advising the Earth King and the Fire Lord in the most ambitious peace project the Four Nations had ever seen. As such, it would not be appropriate for her to still be living with her father and grandmother. The Southern Tribe had never been one for grand palaces, like in the North. She was still getting used to having a space to call her own, but she liked the independence. Among other things, it meant she could pace around when she couldn’t sleep, on nights like tonight.

Eventually, she realised trying to sleep was futile, and she pulled on her outdoor clothes to go for a walk. Being so close to the coast, she headed for the water’s edge, watching the distorted reflection of the moon ripple across the surface of the ocean, feeling the water call to something deep inside her. Her fingers tingled as if waterbending really _was_ magic. She almost felt like Yue was drawing her out to show her a new waterbending form.

What, she thought, would Yue think of all this? Of her falling in love with the boy who’d had a hand in Yue’s own death? Did she blame him for what had happened to the North Pole? Or did she blame Zhao? And if she _did_ blame Zuko, had she forgiven him? It was easier to forgive someone that wasn’t directly responsible for the death of one you loved. She would never forgive Yon Rha, but then, he had never tried for forgiveness, either. He had never been worthy of it.

What would _anyone_ think of them? What would the Fire Nation think of their Fire Lord with the woman who had helped defeat their princess, a virtual peasant who wasn’t even a Fire Nation citizen, who was a _waterbender_. What would the Water Tribes think of their Southern Princess falling for the son of the man who’d waged so much war and terror, the symbol of the people who had caused so much pain, someone who had arguably caused the death of the _Northern_ Princess?

And what would Aang think of them? Spirits forbid he found out, because she had no idea if he would be pleased or heartbroken; glad or furious. Would he think she’d left him only to immediately run into Zuko’s arms? Would he think she and Zuko had been involved _before_ then, that she had strung him along, or Zuko had stolen her away? She felt sick just thinking about it. The last thing she wanted was for Zuko and Aang to fight.

_Oh, spirits…_ What if Aang was so enraged, he sparked another war? No! No, that wasn’t possible, not even a little bit. Aang could get angry, but he wasn’t _violent_. Unless… the Avatar State was triggered by emotional distress. What if he lay waste to the Summit, or even the Fire Nation? The Fire Nation was still adjusting, and there were many who would reattempt to conquer the Four Nations given the right opportunity, like the Avatar lashing out, or Azula being placed on the throne.

Katara wasn’t used to feeling cold, but now on the coast of the South Pole, she shivered, fear creeping into her bones and freezing. Aang wasn’t hurtful, he was sometimes self-centred but… he wouldn’t do _that_, would he? He would never _kill_ someone; he would never kill _Zuko_. He hadn’t even been able to bring himself to kill Ozai. Even in the Avatar State, he hadn’t done it. But even so… what _would_ he do?

It didn’t matter, she reasoned, because he wouldn’t find out. She and Zuko had both agreed they weren’t going to act on their feelings, for the good of peace. They could only push so much change upon the world; too much and people would no longer bend; they would just snap. And people did dangerous things when pushed to their breaking points.

* * *

The next morning, Katara believed she was prepared for the arrival of the delegates, she really did. This was the third Summit; by now she was well versed in the political climates of the Four Nations, she knew where she excelled, and she was confident that she could be a gracious and efficient host alongside Sokka and Hakoda and the rest of the Southern Chiefs. She knew how to hold herself, what words made her argument more convincing; she was a _good_ diplomat, almost as good as she was a warrior.

She believed she was prepared to see Zuko’s face again.

She wasn’t.

The Fire Nation vessel pulled into the port, the plank was extended, and a procession of ambassadors and delegates paraded down, with Zuko pulling up the end. Hair pulled into a royal topknot, crown glinting in the summer sun, robes as deep and red as blood. Impossibly, he seemed to have grown even taller, filled out even more. Each time she looked at him he was further and further from the boy she’d met those years ago. And that was a good thing, in many ways, but it was hard to reconcile all the reasons they had to stay away when all she could see was her dear friend, and the _man_ that she knew she loved.

_It doesn’t matter_, she reminded herself, and it didn’t. No matter how they felt, they couldn’t act on those feelings. It would be easier for them both if those feelings just went away. It would be easier for _everyone_ if those feelings just went away.

“Fire Lord!” Hakoda said jovially, bowing to Zuko with his hands in the traditional flame formation.

“Chief Hakoda,” Zuko replied, returning the bow, but covering his fist with his other hand, the way Water Tribesmen did when they bowed to each other. “I hope this past year was kind to you.”

“Not so kind as the others, I think,” Hakoda told him, “It’s no small feat, preparing for a Summit—but you’re well aware, of course.”

“I’m sure this year will be wonderful,” Zuko assured him. “I haven’t visited the South Pole since…” He paused, unsure of how much to say. He hadn’t been so far South since he and Katara had tracked down Yon Rha, which didn’t seem like a great topic to bring up to Katara’s father and Kya’s widower. Before then, his only encounter in the South Pole proper had been when he’d sort-of-invaded the Southern Tribe in hunting Aang. That was even _less_ ideal.

“…since before the end of the War,” he finished carefully. Hakoda, sensing the awkwardness, just gave a large smile, and was saved having to say anything by Sokka’s arrival.

“Zuko!” he whooped, shoving through Hakoda’s ‘guard’ and pulling Zuko into a deeply informal and incredibly welcomed hug, which Zuko returned. “Good to see you! How’s the project going? Did our list help? _Oh!_ Have you started construction yet? I have some _great_ ideas for—”

“It’s nice to see you, too, Sokka,” Zuko cut across. “And I wanna tell you about all of that, and hear your ideas—really—but… can it wait until the actual Summit?”

“Huh?” Sokka exclaimed, then flushed. “Oh, yeah, right.” He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “How was your trip?”

“Nice enough, summer waters are calmer—but you’d know. How’re your new boat designs working?”

At that, Hakoda and Sokka exchanged a look. “Um… we’re still ironing out a few issues,” Sokka confessed. “Getting the coal engines to work kind of made the boats… catch fire…”

“I could send some engineers down to help, if you want,” Zuko suggested, “Some of them are firebenders, too, so they could minimise fire damage.”

“That would be greatly appreciated, Zuko,” Hakoda smiled, “If you can spare the men.”

“I’ll assemble a small group as soon as I return,” Zuko promised, turning to his entourage of delegates—some of whom were better than others at hiding their distaste of how Zuko interacted with Hakoda and Sokka—and said carelessly, “Someone make a note of that, will you?”

As they all scrambled to note that down, Zuko smiled to himself. He didn’t like bossing his servants around, but it was fun to watch some of the snobbier Fire Nation politicians express disgust at how casually he behaved around foreigners, at the same time sucking up to him in attempts to gain favour. Did they think he was stupid? Half of them he only kept around because he knew they had the political clout to rile up civil unrest if they tried, and the _last_ thing he needed was a civil war. If tolerating a few snobs was the price he’d pay for peace, it was far easier than others he’d paid.

Speaking of which, Katara then appeared at the port, gracefully bending her way down a steep hill covered with snow and ice. She stood beside Sokka, not immediately going to hug him, and he wondered if that was for propriety, or because she didn’t want to let on anything.

“Hello, Katara,” he said, then panicked a little if his voice had given something away, if he’d spoken too fondly—

“Hey, Zuko,” she grinned, stepping forwards to hug him tight—but quickly. He’d barely hugged back when she pulled away.

For a moment, they looked one another deep in the eyes, both thinking how much simpler things would be if they found nothing, but also fearing nothing more than exactly that. It was only a brief moment, but it was all they needed to see that no, nothing had changed.

But equally, nothing had changed; they still had duties, they still had families and friends. Once again, it didn’t matter.

“How have you been?” Zuko asked, his voice a little strained, as though he’d choked. “These—these past few months, I mean?”

“Well, it’s been busy,” Katara replied, acutely aware of Zuko’s eyes on her, but also Sokka and Hakoda’s. “Preparing for a Summit. The South Pole hasn’t had this many guests in over a hundred years.”

Zuko realised a fraction of a second too late that he was staring and hadn’t said anything. He feigned a small cough. “Well,” he said, “I’m glad I can be a part of it.”

* * *

As the sun set that evening and the rest of the delegates arrived, greetings were given, news was distributed, and everybody was pleased to once again be reunited. Toph, newly sixteen, recounted an amusing story in which her parents had tried to set her up with a potential suitor, and she had staunchly declared that she would marry only a man who beat her in an earthbending match. Their group, knowing that even Aang had never achieved such a feat, laughed uproariously, and Toph grinned for the first time since she’d had to put shoes on her feet to protect them from the cold.

She’d taken them off for the moment, however, as they were all sat in the hut Sokka (and Suki, when she was in the South Pole) stayed in, waiting for the horn to sound and for the delegates to be called from their guest huts into the main building. Over the next two weeks it would serve as a ballroom, a banquet hall and a meeting hall for all the political talks. Since Pakku had been the one to do most of the designing, it was the closest thing the Southern Tribe had to Northern architecture, and the main room was plenty large and grand enough for a Summit.

“Speaking of marriage, actually…” Suki said, almost shyly. Zuko was stunned. He’d never known Suki to be _shy_. “…me and Sokka have an announcement to make.”

Everyone’s heads swivelled at once to stare at Suki and Sokka owlishly.

“You’re _not!_” Katara exclaimed flatly, already the beginnings of a delighted grin was pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Suki nodded, smiling too widely to say anything. She reached up and pulled down the furry collar of her green parka to reveal a choker necklace; a black ribbon with a green stone, carved with a Southern Water Tribe crest. “We are!” she managed to squeak, Sokka throwing his arm around her and hugging her close, beaming just as widely.

“Spirits, congratulations!” Katara squealed, jumping to her feet to hug her brother and sister-in-law-to-be tight enough to rival Toph’s embraces. “Hang on—” She abruptly stopped. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

“Well, we wanted to tell everyone at the same time,” Sokka replied, “Aw, come on, Katara, you’re not mad I didn’t tell you first?”

“A little bit,” she said, even as she grinned and hugged him again. “Isn’t Suki supposed to ask for my and Dad’s blessing or something?” Suki snorted into her drink, half-choking with laughter.

“That’s amazing!” Aang exclaimed, “When did this happen?”

“Actually,” Sokka admitted, “I proposed a few nights ago. But we wanted to wait until everyone was here to tell anybody.”

“Does _Dad_ know?” Katara asked. Sokka laughed a bit nervously.

“Well, he will later tonight,” he replied.

“Oh, he’ll be _fine!_” Toph huffed. “Every one of us has known this was gonna happen since the end of the War. Even _I_ know you guys are always making goo-goo eyes at each other and _I_ can’t even _see!_”

“Have you made any arrangements?” Zuko asked. He was the least excitable of the group but no less happy for his friends.

“A few,” Sokka told him, “We’re gonna have the ceremony in Kyoshi, but it’ll be like a Southern one. I was actually hoping Zuko, Aang, that the two of you would be my deckhands.”

“Deckhands?” they echoed in unison. Sokka nodded.

“In the Southern Water Tribe, a groom is supposed to sail out the night before his wedding and catch the food for that evening—the first meal they eat as a married couple,” he explained, “Deckhands are close friends or family members that help.”

“Oh, like flame-tenders,” Zuko nodded, “Sokka, I… I’d be honoured.”

“Me, too!” Aang beamed, but as Katara glanced at him, she saw the hurt in his eyes, saw him trying very pointedly not to look at her. All this talk of marriage, had it dredged up feelings from last year? She supposed it was inevitable; he had proposed at the Summit, and here they were at another one, and here they all were, talking of marriage.

“And I was hoping Katara and Toph would be my fan-bearers,” Suki then interjected, looking at the two of them with a hopeful expression. “I don’t know what brides do in the Southern Tribe, but in Kyoshi, you’re supposed to kneel before her statue the whole night before, and fan-bearers stand watch.”

“That sounds the same as the rest of the Earth Kingdom,” Toph said, “We ward away evil spirits who try to steal brides away or put curses on the marriage.” She didn’t mention anything about the old superstition that evil spirits only came hunting if the bride ‘wasn’t virtuous’, but Kyoshi—both the Avatar and the island—seemed a little too progressive to hold those sorts of beliefs, anyway.

“Exactly,” Suki agreed, “Would you two want to—I mean, would you like to be my fan-bearers?”

“Suki, we’d _love_ to!” Katara grinned, “Of course we would!”

“Quick question,” Toph then said, “Will we have to wear Kyoshi uniform?”

“Um… it’s tradition,” Suki admitted, “But then this isn’t going to be all that traditional a wedding, will it?” She turned to Sokka and they both laughed. And she was right. Normally, a Southern Tribesman would set sail on the night before his wedding, spend the whole night hunting out on the water, then sail back. Instead, Sokka, would sail for Kyoshi and hunt on the way. Supposedly, the Moonlight Hunt would serve as an indication for the prosperity of the marriage—its food, its children and its happiness.

“In a word, no,” Sokka grinned. “The Chief of the Tribe is supposed to marry the couple, but I don’t know if Dad’ll be up for that.”

“Oh, he will be,” Katara scoffed, “You’re not _that_ young—besides, you’re not getting married at the Summit.” She paused, then blanched. “Uh, right?”

“Oh, spirits no!” Suki exclaimed, “We were thinking just after the Midnight Festival. A Kyoshi bride is supposed to sew her own dress, like she’s supposed to sew her warrior uniform. Marriage is just another kind of battle, with a different kind of ally. I’ll need at least a few months to make it.”

Katara smiled at the thought of that. “That sounds… comforting,” she said. And it did. Marriage as two people facing the world together, having one another’s backs in a fight, propping up each other at their weakest points.

A loud horn then sounded, and they all got to their feet and headed over to the Council Hall. The other delegates all came out of their own huts, which were arranged in three small groups, separated by low walls of snow. The Earth Kingdom group, with Earth Kingdom crests engraved into the ice pillars flanking the wall’s gap and the entrance into the miniature village, was the largest of the three.

Being the children of the Southern Tribe’s Head Chief, the Fire Lord and the Avatar; Aang, Katara, Zuko and Sokka all headed to the top table where Hakoda, Arnook, Kuei and Bumi were already sat. Sokka was at Hakoda’s right, Katara to his left. On Katara’s left was Zuko and on Sokka’s right was Aang, as indicated by the insignias carved onto the backs of the tall chairs. Sitting at the head table, Katara could easily pick out which of their guests were firebenders; they were the only ones not swaddled in parkas. Even though it was the summer, and they were inside, the South Pole still got pretty cold for people who weren’t native.

Once everyone was settled, Hakoda got to his feet. “It warms my heart to see that we have all, once again, come together in the name of peace,” he said, his booming voice carrying easily across the large room. Something about the shape of the ceiling, Katara remembered; Pakku had explained it to her but she didn’t remember the details. “I know, for many of you, this is your first time coming so far south, and I hope you all enjoy your stay here. We’ve come so far since the end of the War, and I know we all want to keep going even further, so I am very glad to announce to you all that the third annual Peace Summit of the Four Nations is begun!” He raised his cup high in a toast, and the hall let out a cheer, everyone raising their own cups and drinking to his toast.

The opening banquet, like always, had a variety of foods from all over the world, but featured local Southern Tribe food most heavily. That meant seaprunes and a lot of fish, to Katara’s delight, though she also tried some of the Fire Nation foods that had been brought along, finding them to be a bit spicier than she last remembered—or maybe it had just been too long since she’d had any. The chefs in the Earth Kingdom had supplied their typical array of dainty sweetcakes, and the stocks were depleted fast; so fast Katara didn’t get to have any. She supposed it was fair; many of the Southern Tribe had never been outside the South Pole except for the War, and for a lot of people here it was their first opportunity to try something like that. All the same, she was disappointed, until she felt a tap on the shoulder.

“I managed to steal one before they were all gone,” Zuko said, holding a sweetcake in his hand. Katara flushed, trying not to look obvious as she glanced around them, but her father was talking to Sokka—spirits, she hoped Sokka didn’t tell him about the engagement whilst at dinner—and no one was sat on Zuko’s other side. Toph and Suki were chatting at one of the lower tables, but that was clear on the other side of the room, so she was sure Toph couldn’t hear them or sense their heartbeats.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the cake, “Are you sure you don’t want it?”

Zuko shook his head. “It’s fine. I saw how disappointed you were. And I’ll have an opportunity to eat them again before you—I’ll be going back to Ba Sing Se almost as soon as the Summit’s over.”

“Are the plans going that well?” she asked. He smirked.

“I can’t give too many details,” he said, “I kind of promised Sokka I’d tell him first, give a thorough account. He might come up as well—he has some ideas for constructing costal buildings.”

“Well, if anyone can build on the coast, it’s Water Tribesmen,” she agreed.

A small _crash_ behind her made her turn and look. It wasn’t loud enough to gain the attention of anyone on the lower tables except Toph, with her excellent hearing, so both she and Suki turned to look at Hakoda, who had dropped his cup and was staring, wide-eyed, at Sokka.

“Congratulations… son…” he muttered, stunned. Sokka grinned nervously, even more so when he made eye-contact with Katara and she gave him a look as if to say _really? Here? Now?_

* * *

Aside from the mishap with Sokka announcing his engagement, the opening dinner went smoothly and everyone retired to their huts. Zuko had apparently instructed some of his guards to go around and offer to start fires for anyone who found the climate too cold, even inside their little huts that were specially shaped to keep the heat in. Katara had only ever been cold inside a hut in the dead of a windy winter night, but then, she’d been raised in the South Pole. Hakoda had spent three years in the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdoms, fighting in the War, and even _he_ had been a little colder than normal his first winter back home.

Aang had retired to the group of huts designated for himself and the handful of Air Acolytes he’d brought from the Temple. Supposedly, he was training four of them—all airbenders—to become heads of the four Air Temples once they were all rebuilt; that was what Toph’s letters had said. She’d been helping with a lot of the rebuilding, since she was one of the few earthbenders Aang trusted with such a delicate process.

His having gone to bed was a small relief for Katara, after Sokka and Suki’s announcement. She was happy for them, _of course_ she was, but talk of marriage had dredged up a lot of old thoughts and feelings that she would rather be done with, especially at a Summit, especially when Aang was around. She had other things to think about besides how she felt.

Of course, she was well aware of that. She had been long before the crystal caves last winter. As uncomfortable and hard as these past few months had been, she’d really thought she could do it; that she could forget how Zuko felt about her and how she felt about him and they could move on with their lives as they needed to. But having him right in front of her, with all the distractions of preparing for a Summit over with, she realised that nothing had changed at all.

Heading back to her own hut, she spied one of the Fire Nation guards approaching, then firelight sparked off a golden crown and she realised it wasn’t a guard. Zuko was coming over to her.

For a moment, she considered bolting to her hut, pretending she hadn’t seen him, and just going to bed. But that would be painfully obvious, and she didn’t want to hurt Zuko’s feelings or make any onlookers curious. So, she stood her ground, and smiled. It was easy, when she made eye contact with him. Suddenly, she realised just how much she missed being _around_ him. Just talking to him, spending time with him, sparring with him.

But that was the problem. She was in love with him, and even those small things would give them away, even those small things would lead down a slippery slope and end up with them kissing. It had happened before. It had almost-happened any number of times.

“Are you alright?” Zuko asked as he got close, “You look a bit worried.”

“Just lost in thought,” she said, and it was mostly true. “What about you? You look a little cold.”

He glanced down at his formal robes. Magnificent, but suited to the much warmer climate of the Fire Nation. “I didn’t want to wear my parka on the day I arrived,” he confessed, “Well, the Council didn’t want me too. They thought it made me look weak, like I wasn’t a good enough firebender.” He had to admit, he’d always been more proficient with swords, but ever since he’d helped Sokka break Suki and Hakoda out of prison, he’d become much more skilled at his warming breath. It was a pain to do constantly, but he knew some Councilmembers were proud enough to try and keep up warming breath for two straight weeks if it meant they didn’t have to wear parkas and admit they couldn’t cope with the cold.

“Maybe the Blue Spirit and his swords should take them down a peg,” Katara suggested, and he chuckled. Reaching up, he took out his crown and undid his topknot, letting his shaggy black hair fall about his face. He was keeping it at roughly the same length it had been at the end of the War, and she had to wonder if he was consciously keeping it that length or not; if he didn’t want to look any more like his father than he absolutely had to. Either way, she preferred this look on him compared to the longer, if more traditional, styles most Fire Nation citizens sported.

“So…” he remarked, turning over his crown in his hands. “Sokka and Suki are getting married…”

“Yeah,” she murmured, “That’s… pretty huge.”

“I’m happy for them,” he said, “That they’ve found someone they want to spend their life with. I think they’ll be very happy.”

“I hope so,” she agreed, “Suki’s been around so long, she’s already like a sister to me. I’ve never seen Sokka as happy as he is with her.” Like he’d never known sadness, or pain, or heartbreak. Or, no, like he _had_ known those things, but they didn’t matter, because each part of them had led him to Suki, and he wouldn’t change that for anything.

Zuko eyed her. “Do you know how Aang’s doing? In general, I mean, not just because of…” _This. You_.

Katara shrugged. “I haven’t really spoken to him about it,” she said, “And I don’t want to force it if he doesn’t want to talk.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You know the two of you are going to have to talk about what happened eventually,” he said, and she nodded.

“I know. But… not yet. I don’t want to distract him at a Summit. And I can’t afford to distract _myself_—this is the biggest opportunity the South Pole has had in a hundred years to showcase what it’s capable of.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Zuko said, “You, Sokka, Hakoda. You were instrumental towards ending the War.”

Katara sighed. “I know, but I mean the _South Pole_, Zuko. We don’t have grand palaces and fine art the way the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom do. Most people think we’re sad little villages pushed away into the cold—certainly the Southern Tribe, at least. I want the world to see all we’re capable of. We _revolutionised_ fishing boats, you know. The Fire Nation’s war vessels are useless for that sort of thing. And you don’t get softer, warmer fur than polarbeardog.”

Zuko put up his hands as though fending her off. “I believe you,” he said, “Save that for the delegates tomorrow. You can show them how amazing this place is then.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You think this place is amazing?”

He gave a shrug. “Of course I do, it’s beautiful. And the way the Water Tribe have managed to make a comfortable home here is even more amazing. I’d love to live somewhere like this. It’s so… peaceful.”

“A bit too peaceful,” Katara said, “I love it, obviously, it’s my home. But I don’t think I could spend my whole life here.”

“That’s part of the reason you left Aang, isn’t it?” Zuko said. It was phrased like a question but he knew the answer. “You want to travel, to see the world and help the people in it.”

“I don’t know if I could ever stay in one place,” she confessed. “I… I don’t really know _what_ I want, but I know what I don’t. And spending my whole life in one place, even as beautiful as here… I couldn’t do it.”

She remembered the first Summit, two years ago, and the feel of cool enamel covering her face. _Responsibility and freedom_. That was what those masks had meant. At the time, she had thought she had the latter. Regardless, she would do all she could to keep both of them. The freedom to go where she needed to go, the responsibility of fighting injustices in whatever way possible.

“Maybe you should be a Kyoshi warrior,” Zuko suggested, smiling in a way that made clear it was only partly a joke. “They travel, they fight for justice.”

“They do,” she admitted, “But I don’t think I could be one of them.” She had her family, her friends-at-arms, and she knew she wouldn’t work in another one, didn’t even want to try. She wasn’t meant to follow orders, just as she wasn’t meant to give them. She was meant to be with equals. All her life, she had wanted equals. An equal in Pakku, despite his sexism; an equal in Zuko, despite their opposing goals. She wanted to fight on equal terms; fairly.

It all came back to fairness.

“It’s not fair,” she whispered, almost inaudible above the soft howl of the nighttime wind. The sun was setting, and it was beginning to get cold. She wanted so desperately to invite him into her hut, so that they could talk, _just talk_, but his absence would be noticed, and questioned. “None of this is fair.”

The only thing she knew for sure she wanted, she couldn’t have.

Zuko looked at her, and his hands tightened around his crown. The muscles in his arms twitched, like he wanted to cast it aside in some snowdrift, where it would be buried by morning, never to be found again.

“I know,” he said. And in those two words were all the things they could never say to each other.

The wind would not howl long nor loud enough to cover it.


	23. Ambassador

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara admits her concerns about Aang to Zuko, who offers her the proposition of a lifetime. After an evening conversation turns sour, Katara opens up to Suki about what troubles her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a row, _whaaat?_ You're in luck, my guys, the creative juices were just flowing and you've got yourselves a couple of regular updates!

Sure enough, the first few days of talks were dominated by Kuei and Zuko’s proposals for the peninsula and Hakoda’s eagerness to show the delegates just how incredible the South Pole was. Because the Southern Tribe had a more naturalistic policy and had always preferred to live with minimal disturbance to the land around them, much more of the natural wildlife in the South Pole existed near the Tribe. It was therefore much more of a Southern activity than a Northern one to create clothes and artwork—or, in Sokka and Hakoda’s case, wild inventions. The North, by contrast, had a much higher population of waterbenders, and a lot of their culture was focused on and around that; such as the grand architecture that kept both wildlife and foreigners well at bay. Having comparatively few waterbenders, the South had instead flourished in more unusual and creative ways.

Katara, Zuko was surprised to realise, was not that impressive a seamstress by Southern Tribe standards. As he spoke with various Tribe Chiefs and indeed many Tribesmen and -women in general, he was stunned at the intricacy of their clothes, the complex embroidery patterns, and how they managed to do this with such thick materials to keep themselves warm.

Their fishing and hunting equipment were similarly ingenious—Zuko had never had to hunt or trap his own food until becoming an exile in the last year of the War, and he hadn’t had much success, but hearing people from the Tribe describe traps and snares suddenly made him realise that they were the simplest things in the world, if you just applied some common sense and got a good enough understanding of how an animal would behave. He’d told Katara to save the Southern Tribe’s impressive secrets for the Summit, but he’d never expected for them to have so _many_.

Those first few days, he didn’t see much of Katara, spending much more time with Sokka and Kuei, furthering discussions about the colony reformations. A lot of the colony inhabitants were eager about the plans, mostly because it would involve a lot of new infrastructure, and the proposed area covered mostly colony land already—the Fire Nation had never been able to get very far in land. The fully-Earth-Kingdom citizens were also eager, because it would mean more jobs, business opportunities and maybe even tourism.

Of course, this was all coming from Kuei, so Zuko politely requested a look at the polls again, just to make sure they matched what Kuei was selling. Not that Zuko distrusted the man, but he was pretty sure that Kuei was a little unaware of how much weight his opinion and approval carried, and how most people might go along with his wishes for the sake of avoiding conflict.

Luckily, everything did seem to be going smoothly, and Sokka’s plans for building a port and making use of the archipelago next to the peninsula allowed him to showcase some ideas he’d been working on for boats and longer-distance bridges. He’d been inspired by a small fishing village he’d come across towards the end of the War; built entirely on the water, rather than land, essentially floating in the middle of a huge river.

Zuko remembered that village as one that had been visited by ‘the Painted Lady’, a spirit who could purify water just by touching it. His thoughts then, unsurprisingly, turned to Katara, and he wondered if she still wanted to do that; dress up as a spirit and protect the helpless whilst intimidating the oppressors. She’d enjoyed it well enough in the Earth Kingdom over winter, but she hadn’t gone out alone since that village. He doubted that would stop her, but all the same, he’d quite liked having something to do with her. Sometimes scaring people with a mask was more effective than political negotiation.

Katara, meanwhile, had been speaking with some of the Air Acolytes about establishing early relationships, particularly with the Southern Temple, and was hitting a few walls. Aang had apparently made clear that she had been the one to break off their relationship, and a lot of them were being a little frosty towards her. It made her a little uncomfortable to see how devoted they were to him, how little they questioned him.

She knew he was the Avatar, that he had been widely thought of as the last airbender alive, but that kind of devotion was dangerous when it was to the wrong person—just look at Ozai. Not, however, that she thought Aang could ever do anything close to what the Fire Nation had done. But it was the same idea; that kind of unquestioning loyalty was dangerous, and absolute devotion could only inflate someone’s ego; make them more and more convinced they were right and anyone who disagreed was, categorically, in the wrong. If she was being honest, that was the _last_ thing Aang needed.

As for right now, she would deal with judgemental Air Acolytes. Air Nomads were vegetarian, so that put fishing trade off the table, but the Southern Tribe still wove the warmest, thickest textiles in the world.

“Airbenders can warm themselves with their breath,” said the Air Acolyte she was talking to, quite dismissively.

“Yes, well, not all of you will be airbenders,” Katara pointed out. The Air Acolyte gave her a sour look, clearly trying to find a way to rebuff Katara’s offer. The Air Nomads had always been the most separated of the Four Nations, and their having been gone for a hundred years had placed their entire culture in a position of near reverence. Even without Aang, she was fairly sure the Acolytes would be reluctant to change any traditions, and she wondered if they would interact with the project Kuei and Zuko were working on. The Air Nation was at the very start of rebuilding, would they be willing to enter a cultural melting pot without re-establishing themselves first?

“Really, you’ll be thankful for the thick furs in the winter months,” Katara said. “The Southern Temple is empty right now, right? All the Acolytes are travelling with Aang.”

“With the Avatar, yes,” the Acolyte corrected her pointedly. Katara resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Well, when you’re in the Northern or Southern Temples, you’ll be thankful for the furs, even in the summer months.”

“Are we allowed to wear animal fur?” asked one of the Acolytes, looking to her companions.

“Provided the animal isn’t _tortured_,” said the first one, shooting Katara a pointed look. She didn’t give her the satisfaction of anger; she’d long given up on trying to explain to them that the Poles were too cold to grow enough plant food to feed an entire Tribe, and it wasn’t possible to import enough from warmer areas. Aang had never outwardly condemned it, only politely refused to eat meat himself, but Katara could feel the weight of his judgement in the Acolytes’ eyes.

“The furs we use come from polarbeardogs,” was all she said aloud. “If their fur grows too long, they can’t move or see properly, so we shave them.”

The Acolyte narrowed her eyes, but all she said was, “And what would the Southern Tribe want from the Air Nation in return?”

* * *

It wasn’t until the end of the first week of talks that Zuko had a proper conversation with Katara again. He supposed on some level they were avoiding one another at the large dinners, to make sure no one caught on to what had happened. But on the evening before the assigned two-day break, they found themselves actually having a conversation.

Katara had offered to put on a display of waterbending and, as everyone left the meeting hall to retire to bed, Zuko approached to congratulate her personally.

“You’ve improved again,” he said, “How is it that you get better every time I see you?”

She laughed. “Well, I’m sure you’re improving with your swords all the time, too—you just don’t show off as much.”

“Maybe not,” he agreed. Then, “Um, do you mind if I speak with you? In private?”

Katara looked at him, wary. “Are… you sure?”

“It’s about the colony reformations,” he assured her, and she perked up, relieved to an extent.

“I had some thoughts, too,” she said, “About the Air Acolytes. Would you prefer my hut or yours?”

He thought about this for a moment. “Would yours be alright? I don’t want all my guardsmen listening in—or the Councilmembers.” He lowered his voice. “I think some of them may be trying to undermine the project.”

“You mentioned some of the Fire Nation isn’t too happy about the peace,” Katara agreed. “Alright, follow me.”

Her hut was larger than those housing the delegates, but then she _lived_ in the South Pole. It was in a small row of huts, separated by low walls, providing a “garden” of sorts, a little way away from the Chief's 'palace' that was really just a much larger hut with more rooms. Inside, the hut was split into two rooms; a sleeping area and a main area. The main room had a small hole in the top to allow smoke from a center fire to escape, and Zuko helpfully lit it with a wave of his hand as they walked in. Again, because of the shape of the hut, the heat did not escape with the smoke, and it was warm enough that they could discard their parkas comfortably.

“This is… cosy,” Zuko remarked, looking at the wall hanging she’d put up. It was done in the Southern style of embroidery, and beautiful, though not as detailed as some of the dresses he’d seen throughout the week. This was likely, then, something Katara had made herself. The rugs on the floor, however, he reckoned had been made by Kana; he could see some more Northern elements in the patterns, even though they had been made in the Southern style.

“Thanks,” Katara replied walking over to the corner and kneeling before a wooden chest. Opening it, Zuko spied several scrolls, many with red seals stamped with the Fire Nation insignia.

“You kept my letters?” he blurted, before thinking to keep quiet. Katara didn’t look at him, but flushed a little.

“I keep all my letters,” she said, pulling one from inside the chest. The seal on this one was green, stamped with the Earth Kingdom’s crest. “I got this from Kuei a few weeks ago. He said you two reached out to the Acolytes about the reformation plans, asked if they’d be interested in having inputs on creating a multicultural city.”

“They don’t seem all that interested in splitting off from Aang right now,” Zuko agreed, sitting cross-legged on one of the rugs, with the fire pit between them. “I wouldn’t be concerned, except…”

“He can be pretty single-minded,” Katara finished. “I don’t think he has any bad intentions, but he needs to realise that the Air Nomads need the other Nations just as much as the other Nations need the Air Nomads. He’s the Avatar, his whole job is restoring balance.”

“Maybe that’s what he’s trying to do,” Zuko suggested, “The Air Nomads are practically extinct, except for him and the Acolytes. Maybe he just wants to… level the playing field first—recruit more Acolytes, restore the Temples.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Katara said. “But it’s how he’s going about it. I don’t think he realises what he inspires; he’s the Avatar who defeated the Fire Nation. Aren’t you worried about the kind of person that might attract?”

“The Air Nomads are peaceful, unequivocally,” Zuko said, “Aang would never sanction any violence.”

"The Air Nomads are interested in balance," Katara corrected him, "The last Air Nomad Avatar, Yangcheng, she was willing to do whatever it took to maintain peace and balance. Even..." She swallowed. "I know Aang would never do that, though, but it's wrong to say that the _Air Nation_ would never. And I’m not saying they’ll become violent, I’m worried they’ll become removed. The Air Nomads were always the most isolated of the Four Nations, and Aang comes from the culture one hundred years ago. I'm worried he'll become so engrossed in its traditions that the Air Nation will get left behind even more. It has a unique opportunity to connect itself to the other Nations _as it builds_. It won’t need to alter itself for these trade routes and treaties and agreements, it can build with and around them. But if Aang focuses too much on the Air Nomads alone, they might crumble into dust—this time for good." She bit her bottom lip. "He’s putting an awful lot of pressure on a very small group of people.”

Zuko frowned, seeing her point. “You’re worried everyone will be as single-minded as him?”

“He needs someone to ground him,” she corrected, “Rebuilding the Air Nation should of course be his mission, but someone to remind him that there are other matters he also needs to consider. The Avatar doesn’t just bring balance, he _is_ balance. He might be from one Nation at a time, but he needs to act for all of them.” She paused, then added, “I was hoping the Summits might alleviate some of that pressure.”

The aftermath of the War and breaking up with Aang had made two things uncomfortably clear to Katara. Number one, the Avatar was human, and fallible. That meant there was a chance that, one day, the Nations might be at the mercy of someone less merciful than Aang, less forgiving than Roku, less pragmatic than Kyoshi. The Avatar was meant to be the balance between the human world and the spirit world, not between the Four Nations, and they couldn’t rely on the Avatar to right all their problems.

Number two, with how the Fire Nation had advanced in the last hundred years, and how the Nations were all collaborating to improve their technologies, it was only a matter of time before they all surpassed the will of one person. The Avatar was powerful, but not absolute, and again, not primarily concerned with the human world, only how it balanced with the spirit world. It would fall to the Four Nations to keep themselves and each other in balance, and for that, they would need something like the Summit to stick.

“Give Aang some time to rebuild the Air Nation without having to worry about the others." Zuko followed her train of thought. “But I think you’re right, he needs someone to ground him—his ideas.” He smiled ruefully. “I guess it’s to be expected, an airbender having his head in the clouds.”

“Speaking of grounding him, I’m glad Toph has been helping him rebuild,” Katara said, “Maybe she can knock some sense into him whilst she’s at it.”

“I think she’s good for him,” Zuko agreed, “But it makes sense. An earthbender and an airbender. They complement each other.”

Katara watched him. “Like fire and water?”

Zuko met her gaze, measure for measure. “A little,” he said. “There are a few differences between us and them.”

She smiled. “Just a few,” she agreed, then looked away, frowning. Zuko stepped forwards, concerned.

“Is something wrong, Katara?” he asked.

She gave a sigh. “We can’t keep doing this, Zuko,” she told him. “We can’t keep… dancing around each other. We get too close together and then we make mistakes, and…” She broke off, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. But we can’t afford to risk… _everything_.”

Watching her through the flames, Zuko saw the pain in her eyes. He knew she was right. He was twenty-one and she was nineteen. It was becoming harder and harder to justify what were the actions of children. Only children would hammer so incessantly at something that could not be, and it was childish to think or act or hope otherwise. They were no longer children, not anymore. Not since the end of the War and probably long before then, too.

“I know,” he agreed, “But you can’t blame me for wishing it could be another way.”

“If I did, I’d be a hypocrite,” she admitted, turning away. “What did… what did you want to talk to me about? About the colony reformations?”

“Something similar, actually—to your concerns about Aang, I mean,” he corrected quickly. “Obviously there are going to be a lot of Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom citizens there, and everyone is eager to see how a multicultural place could exist. But not everyone there is going to be a dual-national, and there could still be some residual tensions between Nations, especially those who see the reformations as the Fire Nation refusing to leave Earth Kingdom territory. So, I was wondering… if you would, possibly… be an ambassador to He Ping Cheng?”

Katara looked at him, confused. “He Ping Cheng? What’s that?”

“It’s what me and Kuei have decided to name the city we’re building on the peninsula,” he said, “I—well, both of us—were hoping you would be the Southern Water Tribe ambassador, and… maybe convince some of the more adventurous people in your Tribe to maybe move there?”

She stared at him. “You want… _me_ to be the ambassador to… to He Ping Cheng?”

“Who better?” Zuko asked, “You’ll make sure people integrate in a way they’re comfortable with, you won’t let anyone try to take advantage of the dual nationals, or anyone else who might be vulnerable. And… it’s an adventure. I…” He dropped her gaze, a flush coming over his pale cheeks. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Zuko, I… I’m speechless!” she exclaimed, “This is… this is more than I could’ve ever _dreamed _of doing with my life! Helping all those people… bringing them together like that, I—thank you!” She got to her feet and rushed across the room to hug him tight around the neck.

Because that was the truth; this _was_ more than she’d ever dared to dream. Being a diplomat on behalf of the Southern Tribe was more than she could’ve asked for, but she dreamed for it, thinking anything else was beyond possibility. But He Ping Cheng was to be something the Four Nations had never seen before; something truly balanced and multicultural. And she was going to have a hand in making it happen.

“You shouldn’t be thanking me, really,” Zuko said, but he hugged her back, because he knew the opportunity to do so was rare. “You’ve more than proved your competence.” They pulled away from each other, but Zuko kept his hands on her shoulder. “And you’re practically the Southern Tribe’s ambassador, anyway. It’s just… one more location for you to keep in mind when you’re off doing diplomacy.”

Katara thought about this. She didn’t hold the title officially, but… she _was_ practically the Southern Water Tribe’s ambassador. She’d helped Zuko and Kuei over the winter, she’d had hands in almost every political talk the Tribe had discussed at the Summits. She was far more willing to leave the South Pole than her father, who had travelled more than enough for one lifetime, he’d explained. Sokka spent most of his time at Kyoshi when he wasn’t in the South Pole…

“Ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe,” she murmured. She could travel, adventure, help people with her words and discover any number of people she could help with her waterbending. It was practically perfect.

“Zuko,” she beamed up at him, happy tears springing to her eyes. “I’m honoured.”

She was so excited about the possibilities lying ahead, so giddy about all the good she could do, so thankful to him, that she leant down and kissed him.

It was only an instant; so brief for a moment they weren’t entirely sure what had happened, but they felt warm lips pressed together, Katara could smell the hot spices of the Fire Nation, Zuko could feel hair tickling his cheek.

As suddenly as they both realised what was happening, they both jumped apart, shocked. Katara stood bolt upright, eyes wide, Zuko was almost lying down, his hands braced behind him on the rug. He gaped up at her.

“Katara!” he exclaimed, indignant.

“I’m sorry!” she cried, covering her mouth with her hands. “Oh, spirits, I’m sorry!”

Very slowly, almost awkwardly, Zuko got to his feet, and they stood opposite one another as they had countless times before, feeling as though they were on opposite sides of an impassable canyon. But for the first time since the end of the War, Zuko felt like it was an abyss of their own making.

“You can’t do this to me, Katara,” he insisted, eyes bright with pain. “You can’t keep saying that we can’t be together and then… do _that_. It’s dangerous, and it’s not fair. To me _or_ to yourself.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, not looking at him. She was picking at the brace covering her hand. She'd taken to wearing Sokka's old arm braces after he'd grown out of them and they'd stopped living in the South Pole full time. Unlike for him, they didn't really protect her hands from anything, since she didn't hold her weapons in her hands. “I… maybe we can’t be trusted to spend time alone together.”

He swallowed. “Maybe we can’t.”

“Does…” she started, then hesitated. “Does this mean I can’t be the Southern Tribe’s ambassador?” _Does this mean you don’t want me around?_ She knew which answer would be the most practical, but she also knew it was the answer that would break her heart.

Zuko took a long breath, inhaling and exhaling with a shudder that didn’t suit the warmth inside the little hut, that didn’t suit a firebender. “No,” he said, “You should be the ambassador. You’re passionate about your people and about the politics surrounding them. And I know you’d love the opportunities to find the people targeting the dual-nationals and direct a spirit or two towards them. If you want to be the Southern Water Tribe’s ambassador, you should be. I—_we_—will find a way to make it work.”

She had already had to give up one thing she loved for the sake of her people. He would not force her to give up another.

* * *

The two days of rest between the first week of talks and the second passed agonisingly slowly for days that had been set aside for the explicit purpose of having fun. Aang insisted that Katara and Sokka show Toph, Zuko and Suki the various joys of penguin sledding, so they all donned parkas and headed over to the penguinseal colonies with a large bucket of small fish.

Whilst it was undoubtedly a very fun day out, and a welcome break from their increasingly-adult lives filled with political negotiations, Katara and Zuko were not completely at ease—as it seemed they would never be around each other, from now on.

That was the hardest part, he thought. Worse than him having to give her up, her having to give him up. In acting on their selfish desires, they had irrevocably ruined their friendship, were forced to distance themselves from one another in order to make sure it didn’t happen again. They hadn’t exchanged letters since Katara had left Ba Sing Se, and they had shared exactly two conversations alone this week, yet they had already broken their rule. If he wasn’t careful, if they weren’t both very careful, they would lose each other entirely.

Suki, ever the most perceptive of the group when it came to feelings, approached Katara as they all walked back to the Tribe that evening, exhausted after a day of penguin sledding and a delicious (at least by Katara and Sokka’s standards) picnic on the coast of the South Pole. They had watched the sun set over the icy water. Beams of light, red and orange and gold, sparkled over the impossibly blue waters, warming them with its final rays. Now, it was a gentle twilight; still plenty light enough to walk back safely, but definitely time to be walking back.

“Are you alright, Katara?” she asked, deciding to get right to the point. Her new betrothal necklace glittered at her throat. “You’ve seemed a little… off today. All week, sort of.”

Katara glanced at her. “I’m just a bit stressed about the Summit,” she replied. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth, either. “This is the biggest chance the Southern Water Tribe has had to display all it has to offer in over a hundred years.”

“I know that,” Suki promised, “But I also know that’s not the whole story. I’ve seen you stressed before, Katara, and I’ve seen you have personal struggles, too. Something’s bothering you, and I want to help if I can.”

Sighing, Katara said, “I appreciate the gesture, Suki, but there’s nothing you can do to fix it.”

Suki shrugged. “Who says I have to fix anything? An ear to speak to and a shoulder to cry on can do a lot of good.” She paused, glancing in front of them to see how far ahead Toph and the boys were. Sokka appeared to be telling them the story about how him and Suki had tried to take one of the new fishing boats—the one with engines—out for a test-sail, only to end up having to jump ship into Kyoshi harbour after it had caught fire. They were speaking loud enough and were far enough ahead that Suki was confident the boys wouldn’t hear. If Toph did, she had enough tact to not say anything. “Is this about Aang?”

Cause off guard, Katara turned to stare at her, “What? No!” she exclaimed, “Me and Aang, we—we’re fine!”

Suki didn’t seem convinced. “I didn’t realise it at the time, but I know it might’ve come across as a little… tactless, to announce mine and Sokka’s engagement at the start of a Summit when… you and Aang… at the end of the last one. I'm sorry.”

“Suki,” Katara said earnestly, “Trust me when I say that I am _so_ happy for you, and I know Aang is, too. It’s not about that, I swear. I just…” She broke off and sighed. She _did_ need to talk to someone about this, or she might explode. And her first choice, for obvious reasons, was out of the question. “It’s about Zuko.”

Now it was Suki’s turn to look stunned. “_Zuko?_” she echoed, only just remembering not to shriek. “What happened with you and—_oh, spirits_, you _didn’t!_”

Katara scowled at her. “Didn’t _what?_ We haven’t—we’re not—we just _kissed!_”

“You kissed Zuko?” Suki cried, and Toph, from up ahead turned around to give them a look that, luckily, could mostly be read as ‘confused’. The boys were so engrossed in Sokka’s story that they didn’t seem to notice. “When? How did it happen?”

“Well, it happened a few times—” Katara began explaining, but she was cut off again.

“A _few_ times?!” Suki exclaimed, then calmed herself. “Sorry, sorry, I’m being dramatic. I’ll calm down—just—_spirits_, I can’t believe it! Well, actually, I can. You two always had a very passionate relationship, even when you were enemies, and I might be engaged to Sokka but even _I_ can appreciate that Zuko is good-looking—” Katara was helpless to just watch Suki as she monologued her way through the realisation, unable to get a word in edgewise until Suki finally said, “Okay, I think I know why you’re anxious then—it _is_ about Aang, isn’t it?”

“In part,” Katara admitted, “Me and Zuko, we… we’re not dating or anything. But I’m worried that if Aang finds out about what happened, especially since I broke up with him after he proposed—but that wasn’t the reason why!” she said quickly, and Suki nodded.

“I remember what we talked about at the first Summit,” she said, “I know you broke up with Aang because of you and Aang, not because of anyone else.”

This was actually a welcome relief to Katara. Not that she’d been planning to tell anyone about her and Zuko—strictly speaking, there wasn’t much to tell—but the fear of others ‘taking Aang’s side’, so to speak, and painting her as someone who ensnared powerful young men and then cast them aside when she found someone she preferred, had been a worry.

“So,” Suki continued, “You’re worried if Aang finds out?”

“Yes,” she said, “Because, I don’t want him to think that me and Zuko were fooling around behind his back—I swear, we never kissed or anything whilst Aang and I were dating—but Zuko is one of his best friends, and so am I, and we have that _history_, and you_ know_ Aang can be a bit…”

“Childish?” Suki suggested, “Jealous?”

Katara nodded. “Does that make me a terrible person?”

Suki frowned. “Thinking Aang can be childish and jealous, or kissing Zuko after you broke up with him? Because the answer to both is ‘no’,” she said flatly. “You and Aang and Zuko are all human. You’re all capable of mistakes, you’re all going to have feelings you can’t control or might not be ‘ideal’. What matters is how you react to those feelings and how you behave.”

“I guess you’re right,” Katara murmured. “But there’s not much point—oh, Suki, you have to _promise_ not to tell_ anyone_ about this! Not even Toph or Sokka! Don’t even mention it to Zuko!”

Suki blinked at her, perplexed. “I promise I won’t,” she said, “But… why?”

“Zuko’s the Fire Lord,” Katara said, “He can’t afford to—to date casually. Anyone he’s seen with will be seen as a prospective Fire Lady. And there’s already so much residual tension in the Fire Nation…”

“I know,” Suki agreed, expression turning grim. “I’ve gotten a lot of reports from Ty Lee about assassination attempts.”

“Exactly,” Katara nodded. “And even without mine and Aang’s history, he can’t—he can’t be ‘seen’ with someone like me. That could be the spark that ignites a civil war in the Fire Nation. And that’s not me being dramatic, there have already been several attempts to break Azula out of prison and put her on the throne so the Fire Nation can go back to conquering the world. If the Fire Lord were to be seen with a _waterbender_…” She shook her head, getting worked up just by thinking about it.

“Katara,” Suki said earnestly, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. “I promise, I won’t tell anyone any of this, not even Zuko.” She smiled. “I’m glad you talked to me about this, though. It sounds like you’ve needed to unload for a while.”

“I think I understand what Zuko meant, at the first Summit,” Katara murmured._ I can’t let up, I can’t give them so much as an inch. I have to be able to do this, I _have_ to._ “I won’t be the one to start another war. La as my witness.”

“And you won’t,” Suki promised. “I know you both. Neither of you would ever risk the safety of the world, but… I’m sorry you can’t be together.” She swallowed, even thinking about the idea of her and Sokka not being able to be together, not being able to get married, to hold hands, to spend so much time together… it would feel like a piece of her was missing.

Katara was relieved that she’d confessed some of her worries, but it was a different thing, to hear Suki repeat the things she and Zuko had been saying to one another ever since Ba Sing Se. _It would be too dangerous. It would be too much change._ _It would break Aang's heart. _And she'd already broken Aang's heart once, the last thing she wanted was to break it again. She loved him as much as she loved Toph and Suki and Sokka. He was her family.

As the Southern Water Tribe's outer wall—which was only three feet high, and mainly served the purpose of marking a boundary around the Tribe grounds so no young children went wandering off and no animals would wander _in_—came into view, Suki gave Katara's shoulder a comforting squeeze and rushed ahead to catch up with Sokka. Katara watched as she wound her hands around Sokka's arm, and they laughed delightedly at something, and Sokka pressed a quick, sweet kiss to her cheek. They were so casual in how they adored one another, so at ease. She and Zuko could never have had that, but they had once had a friendship like it. But now even that was ruined.

She felt like Oma and Shu, torn apart by things beyond their control. Their chances of being together forever crushed by war; only able to have their families and each other when it was dark, and the only thing surrounding them were crystals that knew to keep their silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! The name of Zuko and Kuei's project, He Ping Cheng, comes from the characters 和平城 meaning 'City of Peace'.
> 
> We're getting ever closer to the 'burn' part of this slow burn, so trust me when I say your patience will soon be rewarded, and your comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! I read every single comment on my stories and your guys' lovely words really do give me the incentive to continue writing.


	24. Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Masquerade of the third Summit, Suki insists that Katara look more critically at why she and Zuko are so reluctant to act on their feelings. When a calm conversation turns into a heated argument, Katara finally gains some clarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is I think my longest chapter yet, lads, and hopefully you'll enjoy it ;) It's also probably my most complex, as this is the point where I'm really trying to delve deeper into Katara's mental state in particular. Hopefully I didn't make it too abstract!

Between Suki’s engagement to the Prince of the Southern Water Tribe, and the expanding knowledge that a Kyoshi warrior, one Ty Lee, was the head of the Fire Lord’s personal security in the Fire Nation, people within all Four Nations were learning that the Kyoshi warriors were a force to be reckoned with, on par with their Earth Avatar namesake. This was particularly useful at the Summit, where Suki found herself bombarded with congratulations, but also requests that some of her warriors become bodyguards in other parts of the Four Nations.

Suki was, initially, reluctant, worried that they might be used in the same vein as the Dai Lee; a ruthless force of oppression, but Sokka and Katara gently reminded her that Kyoshi’s teachings didn’t allow that.

“Someone might _try_ to use your warriors like that, maybe,” Sokka said, “But none of them will _obey_. They’re loyal to you and Kyoshi first.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Suki admitted, “I just wish we had something more to offer, like the Southern Tribe’s clothes and hunting equipment.”

“You could always expand the training academy,” Toph suggested with a shrug. “I’ve got benders from all over the Earth Kingdom who want to learn to metalbend, I bet nonbenders would like a similar opportunity.”

“Yeah!” Katara said eagerly, “Especially considering Ty Lee can chi-block.” A idea suddenly came to life in her mind. “Wait, I’ve got it—why don’t you and some of the Kyoshi warriors come to He Ping Cheng with me?”

Suki stared at her. “What?”

“It would be perfect!” Katara insisted, “I bet Kyoshi’s independence would appeal to some of the dual-nationals, and if the Kyoshi warriors are policing it, I _know_ any hate crimes will get dealt with properly. What do you think?”

“I…” Suki was dumbfounded for a moment, then she beamed. “I think that’s a great idea!”

“_And_, you two will be able to hang out and talk about _me_ all day!” Sokka grinned, looping his arms around them both.

“Are you sure you want that, Sokka?” Katara asked mischievously, “I bet there’s a few stories from our childhood that Suki doesn’t know…”

“_I didn’t mean it like that!_” Sokka exclaimed quickly. “I mean—of course I’ve told you everything, Suki. I’d never lie! _Katara if you tell her about your old doll I swear to La—!_” He was cut off when, with all his panicked floundering, he tripped and fell face-first into a snowdrift. Suki and the others laughed.

“Seriously, Katara,” she said, “I think that would be perfect. Kyoshi needs to expand as much as the rest of the world, and having a few warriors in He Ping Cheng might just be the way to do it.”

“Be careful,” Katara warned, laughing, “You might suddenly have more students than space to teach them!”

* * *

In the second week of the Summit, Suki met with both Zuko and Kuei to discuss Kyoshi’s role in He Ping Cheng in more detail. Kuei was initially hesitant, given how fake Kyoshi warriors had led to the fall of Ba Sing Se, but Kyoshi assured him that, ever since Ty Lee had joined the warriors, techniques to chi-block but also to counter it were becoming standard in training.

“Times are changing, and the Four Nations are evolving,” she said to His Esteemed Majesty in her most diplomatic voice. “If we do not evolve with them, we’ll be left behind on the pages of history books.”

“Well said,” Zuko agreed, “Your Esteemed Majesty, I owe the Kyoshi warriors I great debt. Without their help, the War would not have been ended, and I would not have been able to assume the Throne of Fire. I trust Suki and her warriors with my life—quite literally.”

“Oh, yes, Kyoshi warriors comprise of your personal security in the Fire Nation, don’t they?” Kuei murmured, “Well, with two such glowing references as yourself and Master Katara, and the approval of the Captain of the Warriors herself, I don’t see why not. I think Avatar Kyoshi would be proud of what you’re doing in her name, Captain.”

Suki bowed deeply. “You honour me, Your Esteemed Majesty.”

“You honour yourself, Captain,” Kuei assured her, “Now, if you’ll both excuse me, the Masquerade is this evening, and me and Bosco have costumes to put on.” How Bosco tolerated being put in costumes and masks and being brought to the South Pole with nary a growl, Zuko would never understand, but he and Suki graciously bid their farewells and Kuei swept out of the room, back to the hut he was staying in.

“The Kyoshi warriors acting as the security force for He Ping Cheng was an excellent idea, Suki,” he remarked. She shrugged.

“It was Katara’s, actually,” she said, “Even so… I’m hoping we can find something of use to give to the world besides our people themselves. Kyoshi’s teachings are valuable, of course, but they’re not… _tangible_.”

“You could make armour,” Zuko suggested offhandedly, “Obviously, Kyoshi armour is sacred, but you must have picked up some skills more generally. I bet there are people in all Four Nations who would like better protective clothing—for hunting, for law-keeping.”

“Hm,” Suki hummed, “That’s not a _bad_ idea… I just don’t want Kyoshi to get left behind because we’re not as large as the rest of the world. A lot of people see us as just another piece of the Earth Kingdom, but we’re not—we’re independent, and so’s our culture.” She then decided to steer the conversation in an abruptly different direction and said, “So when did you and Katara talk about her becoming the Southern Tribe’s ambassador?”

Had Zuko been taking a drink at that moment, he would’ve choked. “I—um, just—just over the first week of talks,” he said blankly. “She helped out so much with the initial plans, and I know she would never take a permanent position there, like a mayor or a Councilmember, but… as an ambassador, she could do a lot of good and still travel.”

“You seem to have put a lot of thought into what Katara wants in her life,” Suki remarked, wondering if it made her cruel, teasing him like this. “You’re a good friend, Zuko,” she said sincerely.

“I like to think we all are,” he replied.

* * *

Kuei was right in that the Masquerade was that evening, and a great deal of preparations were underway. The thick, glossy ice of the council hall was transformed into a glowing, ethereal palace with hundreds of tiny candles. With the help of some firebenders, Sokka and a few of the other Southern Tribesmen had managed to create coloured glass covers for each of the flames; red, green, blue, yellow; even purple and pink. Katara and the other waterbenders had crafted fabulous statues out of ice, clear as glass, and had made a few improvements to the map of the world on the wall behind the head table, including marking each Nation with its crest.

Sokka had gotten more into the spirit this year and been more flamboyant with his mask and costume, dressing up as Kuruk, the previous water Avatar. This was doubly significant as the next Avatar would not only be from the Water Tribe but almost certainly the Southern Water Tribe, as Kuruk had been from the North. Suki, meanwhile, had added some embellishments to her uniform and was dressing as Avatar Kyoshi.

Avatars seemed to be something of a theme, this year, as Zuko had dressed as his own great-grandfather, Avatar Roku. Toph had—unsurprisingly—bucked the trend, as her mask was simply a metal sheet replica of her own face.

“Bumi wants me to show him how to metalbend,” she told Zuko, as they all stood inside the hall, waiting for Hakoda to make his announcement and officially begin the Masquerade. Several of the Tribespeople were setting out platters of food, being extra careful so as to not spill any on their fabulous costumes.

“Wow, that’s a pretty big honour,” he remarked from behind his Roku mask. As an extra touch, he was wearing the crown meant for the Fire Nation’s heir, rather than his Fire Lord flame. “How come he didn’t ask Aang?”

“Oh, he did, but Twinkletoes can’t metalbend,” Toph sniggered. “I guess it makes sense though—he’s an airbender, first and foremost. Earth was always a tricky one.”

Zuko supposed she was right, but inwardly wondered just how eager Aang would be to even _try_ learning metalbending when his first priority was rebuilding the Temples (requiring only earthbending) and restoring the Air Nation (which, he supposed, required airbending, but really it was a lot of writing stuff down and teaching).

“Hey, guys.” Sokka then approached them both, grinning underneath the foxwolf hat and sparkly grey-and-white face paint of his Kuruk costume. “Have either of you seen Katara? Dad’s supposed to make his announcement soon and he wants us both up there with him.”

“Sorry, no,” Zuko replied. “Maybe she’s still in her hut.”

“No, I’m here,” came a voice behind him and Toph. Sokka’s expression lit up, and Zuko turned to see Katara standing there. “Sorry,” she said, “I guess I took a little longer than expected.”

Also going against the trend of Avatar costumes, Katara was clearly dressed as La, the Ocean Spirit. She appeared to have modified her costume from a few years prior—but then, she was busy enough even without making a new one each year. Her hair was styled with several small braids, threaded with blue ribbons and silver beads, her curls pulled into an elegant knot atop her head. Her sewing skills had improved—possibly all her extra time in the South Pole had allowed her to pick up some tips from her fellow Tribespeople—so now her white-and-blue robes were intricately patterned with waves and clouds. Her mask was a smear of deep blue paint across her eyes and lips. In such a costume, it was plain to see how much she’d grown since the end of the War, that she was a young woman with the will and also now the _experience_ to fight injustice and continue the peace of the Four Nations. She looked for all the world like a real Princess, as if she had been born into the role. She looked like she could have come out from the Spirit Forest.

Zuko was rendered quite speechless. Not that she or Sokka noticed. "You look great, now come on," Sokka said. He grabbed her hand and they hurried up to the podium, where Hakoda was waiting. He was dressed as Naruk, who supposedly was the spirit guarding the Southern forest. His bare arms were patterned with swirls of dark blue, grey and white paint, his normally shaggy hair pulled back into a hundred beaded braids, making his lined face look severe and unforgiving. No one, not even a snobby Fire Nation Councilmember, would dare attempt to insult him tonight.

He put a hand on each of his children’s shoulders and addressed the hall. “I’m delighted that another Summit has passed successfully,” he said, grinning, “And I extend my particular gratitude to His Esteemed Majesty, King Kuei of the Earth Kingdom, and His Eminence, Fire Lord Zuko, for personally requesting my daughter, Master Katara, be the Southern Tribe Ambassador to both He Ping Cheng and their respective Nations.” There was a small round of applause from the Water Tribe attendees, as well as their group of friends, and Katara inclined her head in thanks. “To the rest of you, I offer my deepest well-wishes, and hope that this will be but the first of many Summits to be held in the South Pole. Tomorrow, we will be back to work, continuing to build upon the peace we’ve forged. But tonight, we can celebrate the fruits of our labours!”

That earned a much larger cheer, and a group of musicians in the far corner of the hall took it as their cue to begin playing. Zuko recognises the sound of a tsungi horn and wondered if his Uncle would have wanted to be in attendance, but the South Pole was a very harsh place, even for a firebending Master, and Zuko hated to bring his Uncle out of Ba Sing Se more often than was necessary.

“Another success, huh, Sparky?” came Toph’s voice as she scooted over to him. It was this, and her punch to his arm, that jump-started his ability to speak again.

“Uh, yeah!” he said, “No, we made a lot of progress this year.”

“I know,” she replied, “You tell me if you ever need a police chief in He Ping Cheng. I could give a few petty criminals a run for their money.”

Zuko smirked down at her. She may have been sixteen, but she was still short, and he was still several years older than her. “Didn’t you spend the latter half of that summer robbing people?”

Toph smirked right back. “Do _you_ really wanna bring up past crimes?” she asked. “I’m a changed woman, Sparky, and I resent your implication that I would _ever_ be _anything_ but _completely_ abiding by the law!” she added in an impressively dramatic voice, he had to admit. It was immediately undermined, however, by her cackle as she went off presumably in search of food.

Chuckling to himself, Zuko scanned the room, then spotted a flash of blue and silver and recognised it to be Katara. Weaving through the crowd, he tapped her on the shoulder lightly and she turned from her conversation with Sokka and Suki to see him. Under her face paint, she smiled.

“Zuko,” she said, “Another Summit done! How’d you feel?” Was it her imagination, or did she sound stiff and formal? Maybe she was overthinking this. She didn’t need to overthink anything. It was Zuko, she’d talked to Zuko before. Many times, in fact. He was quite good at talking.

_He’s pretty good at other things, too_.

Suki was looking at her funny. She was sure of it. Glancing towards her, sure enough, there was a glitter in Suki’s eye that was entirely unrelated to the sparkling decorations or her new engagement.

“I’m relieved it’s over,” Zuko replied, “These things are fun, but they’re a lot of work.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” Sokka exclaimed, looping his arm around Suki’s neck. In the past few years, Sokka had grown almost as much on the outside as he had on the inside during the last summer of the War. He was broad-shouldered and tall, like his father, and his youth afforded him slightly more muscle. Whenever he ducked his head, so you couldn’t see his eyes, it was eerie how much he resembled Kuruk from all the scrolls and paintings Zuko had seen—mostly when he’d been digging up old Southern Tribe artefacts that had been ‘confiscated’ during the War. “I don’t know how you managed this two years ago—and that was the _first_ one.”

“Well, I had some help,” Zuko smiled, meaning not just their group, but also the small army of servants in the Fire Nation palace. He probably had more attendants than the entire population of the main Southern Tribe, which was a little uncomfortable to think about, so he didn’t dwell on it. “Anyway, what’re your plans for the next year?”

“Well, it seems we’ll have to find some time to plan a wedding in between all the preparations for He Ping Cheng,” Sokka grinned, hugging Suki tightly. Everything about him just exuded delight, disbelief that this wonderful young woman had agreed to marry him. He couldn’t stop grinning. Zuko could not be happier for him, but seeing that, and knowing it was something he may well never have… it hurt a little. “And!” Sokka added, “My little sister is going to be the Southern Tribe’s ambassador!”

Katara flushed under her face paint. “Well, not for a while, you guys’ll have to build it first!”

“Actually, I was hoping Toph could take some time away from helping Aang to help with the foundational construction,” Zuko admitted, “Since we’re building on the edge of the peninsula, a lot of the foundations will be underwater.”

“I’m sure she won’t mind,” Sokka assured him, “Aang tells me they’re almost finished at the Western Air Temple, anyway.”

Suki raised an eyebrow. “He told _me_ they were moving to the Eastern Temple as soon as they finished,” she said, “Do you think she’ll have enough time, and with her metalbending school?”

“That’s a lot,” Katara agreed, frowning.

“Hey, this is _Toph_ we’re talking about!” Sokka exclaimed, “She’s never been afraid to speak her mind! And I’m sure Aang will understand if she needs to focus on other stuff.”

“Aang can be very understanding,” Suki agreed, shooting Katara a pointed look. “Katara,” she then said, “Could I speak to you for a second?”

“Ooh, wedding ideas?” Sokka asked, releasing Suki from his embrace. Suki gave a laugh as she took Katara by the hand and led her aside, neither confirming nor denying.

“You need to tell Aang about what happened,” Suki said, as soon as they were out of earshot. “And I know—I _know_ you and Zuko aren’t together, and I get why, but you need to tell him.”

Katara gaped. “Why? And why _now?_”

“Because he’s going to find out,” Suki said, “And if things ever settle down, or you two decide to give it a shot, Aang deserves to know. You two are his best friends.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said!” Suki cut across quickly, “But this past week, hearing everyone’s plans for He Ping Cheng, how excited everybody is… This _is_ an era of change, Katara. It would probably look really good to a lot of people if the Fire Lord was willing to marry someone outside the Fire Nation.”

Katara remembered the first Summit; how all the Councilmembers had been lining up pretty young women for Zuko to dance with, and how their agendas had been starkly split by either Fire Nation or _non-_Fire Nation girls. “But what about the _assassination_ attempts?” she insisted, “And there’s a real risk of civil war in the Fire Nation already. And what if we—if we don’t even _work out_ and we push all of that and hurt Aang for nothing?”

Suki gave her a sympathetic look, but there was an unmistakable edge of dryness. “Have you ever known Zuko to do things by halves?” she asked, “His patience in trying to placate people who want him dead and Azula crowned Fire Lord will run out eventually. He’s never pretended to agree with them, and I don’t think his choice of wife will affect what anyone thinks of him. _Everyone_ here at this Summit wants to see the Four Nations thrive _together_.”

“I don’t think anyone in the Fire Nation could actually overthrow him,” Katara hissed, incredibly aware that anyone could be listening, “But if there’s another war, people _will_ die, and I won’t put blood on my hands just because of—of some _crush!_”

Suki’s expression was flat. “If I thought for a second this was anything _close_ to ‘some crush’, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” she said. “Look. I’m… I’m sorry if I said something that only worsened your fears, because I really do think you guys need to talk this through properly, even if you don’t… _try_ anything.”

“We already did,” Katara told her, “And we _both_ agreed—”

“Katara, that’s not what I mean,” Suki insisted. “You two start to discuss it and then you both shut it down with your ‘because’ and ‘what if’. That’s _not_ talking about it. You’re bottling up your feelings and it’s not healthy. You’re both hurt from the War, and that’s completely understandable, everybody was. But I think on some level you two are still thinking like the War hasn’t really ended, you’re still both so distressed—you know how terrified Zuko is of becoming his father, even if he won’t admit it.” She sighed. “These things don’t come easy, I know. Having Sokka was such a huge help for me, and I was a help for him. You need someone you can talk to about these things, especially if they lived through the same things you did.”

Katara watched her. On some level, she did agree. There were still nights she woke up, paralysed with fear that her mother or her father or Sokka or Aang or _someone_ was in danger, or they were about to be attacked, or she was reliving the night of her mother’s death, or the siege of the Northern Water Tribe… or the Agni Kai between Zuko and Azula.

She knew, logically, the War was over, and this was an era of peace. But she still sought out combat, she still wanted to fight and be a warrior. And maybe that wasn’t just because she was good at it. Maybe she wasn’t quite willing to let the War go, and put that time behind her. Having lived her whole life at war, it was a difficult shift to make. Incredibly, Aang had adjusted the best, as he had lived most of his life before the War and the Air Nomad genocide. He had been hurt and traumatised, but not as long and as relentlessly as her and Zuko and Sokka and everyone who had known nothing _but_ war until only a few years ago.

“You need to talk to Zuko properly, and Aang needs to know,” Suki said again, “If he finds out from someone other than you, it’ll break his heart.”

Katara swallowed. “So… you want me to tell Aang because you think me and Zuko _should_ try this?” she asked, voice shaking. Suki shrugged.

“I don’t know _what_ you and Zuko are gonna do,” she said, “No one can predict the future. But Aang’s our friend. And at the very least, he deserves the truth. Even if nothing else _does_ happen.” She took Katara’s hands and gave them a comforting squeeze. Then she vanished into the crowd, leaving Katara alone with her thoughts.

As much as she was loath to admit it, Katara supposed Suki was right. She and Zuko hadn’t been talking as much as they maybe _thought _they had been, and they were both, on some level, treating the world like it was still at war. She wondered if maybe it _was_ that they were afraid of hurting Aang, but she wasn’t convinced that there would be no political fallout whatsoever if they were suddenly to announce that the Fire Lord and Southern Princess were… what? Dating? Courting? _Spirits_, maybe even _engaged?_

With a groan, Katara realised Suki _was_ right. They needed to talk. And she needed to talk to Aang.

That didn’t necessarily mean she _wanted_ to, though.

As though he'd been, on some level, able to read her thoughts, Aang then appeared at her side. "Katara!" he said brightly, "Would you like to dance?"

She blinked at him, a little stunned he was offering, but relieved that he was behaving normally around her. She slipped her hand into his. "I'd love to," she said, pulling him onto the dance floor.

Unlike in the Fire Nation, dances in the Southern Tribe were meant to be done to lively music with large groups of people; often partners were swapped and elbows were bruised. Plenty of the Tribespeople were wiling to show everyone how it was done, and the Air Acolytes looked especially eager to try, though many of the Fire Nation guests watched with a thin veneer of distaste at such rowdiness. Katara showed Aang how to hold her hands and they spun energetically around the floor, only narrowly missing the other dancers. Between his being an airbender, and her having grown up with such dances, they were as natural as they had been in the Fire Nation three years ago.

It was delightful, Katara thought, to be dancing and laughing with Aang as though nothing had changed, and to just be around him again. Only now did she realise she'd missed him. Not just for this past year, but longer than that. She'd let her frustration and resentment build up for so long that she'd been missing him even before they'd broken up. Guilt pricked her, but she refused to feel guilty on a night like tonight.

After the dance was over, they both announced their thirst, and went to get a drink. Aang caught her hand. "Katara," he said, "I wanted to apologise."

She stared. "Apologise? For what?"

"For... not realising how unhappy you were," he said, sounding awkward and looking it, too, under his air spirit mask. "Toph kind of... knocked some sense into me this past year. I didn't realise how selfish I was being, how bratty. And I'm sorry."

"Oh," she said softly, having not expected this at all. "Aang, I—"

"I'm not asking to get back together with you, either!" he said quickly, "I mean. I wouldn't be against it, I still..." He swallowed. "I do still love you. But I know that I kind of... spoiled what we had a little. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. And I want us to be friends again."

"What?" she exclaimed, "Aang, we were never... we were never _not _friends." She rushed forwards and hugged him. "I'm so sorry if I let you think that. I just—I needed some space. And I was so frustrated at you and at myself—" _Careful now, don't fall into old traps_. She'd kick herself if she let their relationship fall into its old ways and ruin their friendship. "—I just needed some space. But don't ever think I stopped being your friend." She pulled back from the hug. "I love you like family."

She didn't miss the flicker of pain in Aang's eyes at the words 'like family', but she decided not to comment on it, not right now. She hoped he wouldn't ask her if they could ever date again, because it was clear he wanted to try that, it was clear he wanted to ask, but she knew if he did that she would say 'no', and they were only just getting past this awkward phase of not being able to really talk to each other.

"I love you, too," Aang said quietly, then slipped away to join the Air Acolytes. 

Katara leant back against the wall, wondering why her chest hurt, because that had been a civil conversation, wondering why her eyes stung with tears, because she and Aang were okay.

But Aang had been her first love. There was no changing that. Even if she didn't feel the same way anymore, he had been her first love, and she his, and even without all they had braved together, that kind of relationship tethered you to someone for the rest of your life.

Dabbing carefully at her eyes, mindful not to smear her blue paint, Katara decided she needed to talk to Zuko. She _did_ need to tell Aang what had happened; Suki was right and Aang needed to hear it before he ended up asking if they could ever get back together. If he asked, and she had to explain why they couldn't and tell him about Zuko _then_, he'd feel lied to. Betrayed. And she refused to hurt him any more.

It was easy enough to find Zuko in the crowd. He was talking to a couple of Earth Kingdom officials, probably about He Ping Cheng. When they all bowed to one another and went their seperate ways, she intercepted him. 

“Zuko,” she said, “Can we talk outside?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, “Can we?”

His voice sounded strange to him, like he was an outsider looking in at his own body. Maybe on some level he was angry with Katara—or, no, more like frustrated—at what she had done a few days ago; dredging up all those feelings again so carelessly. He wanted to blame her for her foolishness, but he knew deep down that if she hadn’t done it, he would’ve. All the same, he wasn’t sure if he trusted her _or_ himself to stand outside in the dark, away from literally everybody else here, and just ‘talk’.

She wasn’t impressed by that statement, but didn’t comment on it. Instead, she weaved through the throng of people, towards the main entrance.

“Katara! Zuko!”

Her heart skipped a beat—that was Aang’s voice.

“Where are you two going?” he asked, bright eyed and curious. “Aren’t you gonna dance?”

“Later, Aang,” she said, trying not to look him dead in the eyes. She was sure he would suspect something if she did. She wasn’t ready to confess to him just yet. “I… just have some plans I want to show Zuko about He Ping Cheng. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He smiled at them both. “You’re still working? Didn’t you hear Hakoda say the Summit was over?”

“Well, I leave tomorrow morning,” Zuko said, “So I was hoping to have a quick look before then.”

“That’s fair,” Aang admitted, shrugging. “Would you like me to look at them, too?”

“No!” Katara said quickly, then grimaced. “I mean—they’re very rough plans. I don’t even want to show them to Kuei. Don’t worry yourself with them, Aang. If… if me and Zuko decide it’s something worth telling you about, I’ll tell you, I promise.” She swallowed. “Some things just aren’t worth bothering people over.”

Aang nodded. “That makes sense, I guess. But try not to spend the whole night working, okay? Tonight's supposed to be _fun_.” His expression was too sweet and too hopeful that she couldn’t bring herself to refuse, so she nodded, then led Zuko quickly out of the Hall and into the frigid night air.

“Alright,” she said, folding her arms around her torso. “It’s freezing, we’re both cold, so let’s get this over with.”

Zuko blinked at her. “Get _what_ over with? _You_ dragged _me_ out here!”

“Suki said we need to talk about… _this_.” She gestured vaguely at them both. “She thinks we’re not talking about it properly because we’re both—scared, or something.”

He eyed her. “Suki… knows?”

“Just that we kissed. A few times,” she said, “Anyway, that’s not the point. I trust her. Now: talk.”

Zuko exhaled slowly, and a small flame glowed around his mouth as he warmed himself. Between his bending and Katara’s natural acclimatisation to the South Pole, they were both uncomfortable, but not so much that they were unable to focus. “Okay…” he said slowly. “I… I’m annoyed that you keep saying we can’t be together, and then kissing me. It happened at Ba Sing Se, it happened here, it happened at the end of the War. I feel like… like you’re keeping me on a string. I can’t move on if you keep… doing things like that.”

She nodded, the movement sharp in the cold. “That’s fair,” she admitted, “I’m sorry. Explanations aren’t excuses, but… I think I’m scared of what it would mean if we were together. So if we keep kissing and saying it won’t happen again, if we keep… _slipping_, then we don’t have to face the real consequences of what would happen if we—if we _were_ together.”

“Like a civil war in the Fire Nation?”

“Like breaking Aang’s heart,” she corrected. “Suki, she… she pointed out that both of us are still…” She swallowed, then shivered. Zuko took a step closer so their shoulders were touching, and she felt his warmth seep in through their clothing and into her skin. “On some level, we haven’t come to terms that the War is over, and we’re both so scared of flaring up old tensions, and causing anything that would make more people get hurt—including hurting Aang.”

Zuko nodded. “I think you’re right,” he admitted. “We can’t keep walking on eggshells around everyone—that’s what you did with Aang, and it almost destroyed your relationship with him.”

“I don’t want to be some bitter, loveless woman who’s too scared to… commit to something.”

He thought about this for a second. “Is it also, maybe, because you’re scared you’ll get trapped?” he asked. “Like you were trapped in the South Pole as a kid, and then at the Air Temple with Aang? You said you wanted to adventure. And being with Aang _or_ me… that would limit some things?”

Katara sighed exasperatedly, “I swear, you sound more and more like your Uncle every year,” she muttered. Because that sounded _exactly_ right and it was an uncomfortable truth to face.

Zuko chuckled, quietly pleased. Then his expression sobered. “You know I would never tie you down, Katara,” he said quietly, “If we’re friends or… or something more, it wouldn’t matter.” He would never try to limit another person’s freedom. His family had done nothing _but_ that for generations.

“I want us to be friends, Zuko,” she told him. “I don’t know about anything else, here, but… I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

Zuko unwrapped his arms from around himself to pull her into a hug. She melted into it without resistance. He was warm and safe and he smelled like smoke and spices. Only now did she realise how much she’d been missing him. This entire Summit, she’d missed him.

“So,” she said, after what felt like several minutes of silence. “What do we do now?”

“Well…” he said, “I’d like to continue this conversation, but I’m getting pretty cold. Could we continue this somewhere warmer?”

Katara worried her bottom lip, inadvertently removing some of the blue paint there. “Would you like to come into my hut, then?” she asked.

“How about mine?” he suggested, “It’ll be even warmer, and I have some more of those Four Nation teas Uncle is making.”

She stared at him. “You never told me that!” she exclaimed, “Were you trying to keep them all to yourself?”

He chuckled again. “No, I was actually going to hand them out tomorrow morning to Kuei, Arnook and your dad before I left. I don’t think anyone will mind if there are a few missing,” he added mischievously. Katara grinned at him.

“Me neither.”

* * *

Inside Zuko’s hut was warm, the air thick with the spicy, sweet scent that seemed to follow all Fire Nation citizens around. Maybe they perfumed their clothes before wearing them. A large hanging had been put up on the wall, a tapestry depicting Zuko’s story from exiled prince to herald of peace in intricate embroidered pictures. Katara looked at it with a mild expression, and Zuko flushed as he removed his mask.

“It was a gift,” he said, “I know it sounds kind of vain, but… I like it.”

Katara looked at it a few moments longer, cocking her head. “I like it, too,” she decided. “But it doesn’t hold a stitch to Southern Tribe embroidery,” she added with a laugh.

Zuko laughed as well, and for a moment it felt as easy and natural to be around him as it had before Ba Sing Se last winter. “Well, I don’t know how willing the people of the Southern Water Tribe would be to create a tapestry saying how great I am.” He paused. “Maybe they could make one for you.”

Katara flushed, but didn’t comment. As she sat down, Zuko rummaged through a small wooden box and selected one of the newer Water Tribe flavours, adding it to a teapot and carefully lighting a fire underneath. A credit to Iroh’s skill as a brewer, the teas tasted delicious even if not perfectly heated, which Zuko could definitely not do.

As the water heated, he sat opposite Katara with the fire between them, a parody of a few nights previously. “So…” Katara said, looking not at him, but the flames. “Where do we stand?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he murmured. “Would you… be willing to—to try? Something between us?”

Katara swallowed. “I… don’t know,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to hurt Aang. I don’t want to stir up tensions. And you can’t afford to—to casually date, so…”

“You told me Suki said we’re letting ourselves shut the conversation down before it really starts,” he prompted gently. “Don’t fall into that trap again. Please.” His voice was almost pleading. “What do you think? Of me? Of… of _us?_”

She swallowed again. “I know I love you,” she said, “But I’m so scared that… that we’ll just end up hurting people. And then we’ll break things off because of that and end up hurting each other.” She closed her eyes. “I’m tired of seeing people in pain. And I feel like that’s all I see. People being oppressed. People scared that the War will come back. …I guess it _was_ harder to leave behind than I expected.”

“Do you wish you didn’t love me?” In the quiet of the little hut, Zuko’s toneless question seemed louder than if he’d yelled it. Katara’s head jerked up, and she stared at him, mouth dropping open.

“W—_what?_” she exclaimed.

“Do you wish you didn’t love me?” he repeated, looking her dead in the eyes. A strange calm had come over his features, and for once, she didn’t have a clue as to how he felt inside.

Tears sprung to her eyes. “I didn’t say that, Zuko, I didn’t say anything _like_ that. I—it’s just that it’s _complicated_, and I don’t know what I want, and… And, _yeah_, maybe it would hurt less if… if we didn’t…”

“Do you regret what happened in Ba Sing Se?” he asked, hands curling into fists in his lap. He bowed his head now, and she couldn’t see his eyes. “Do you regret kissing me at the end of the War? A few days ago? Do you wish you could leave this all behind and be a Blue Spirit or a Painted Lady and not have anyone depending on you? Not have to worry they might leave you?”

“Those are _different things_, Zuko!” she cried, rapidly growing angry. “I can’t help how I feel, but what matters is how I _act_ on those feelings. I don’t want to hurt anyone, not you, but not Aang or—or anyone else! I won’t be ashamed of wanting what I want, but I’m not some _deluded child _who thinks that just because I _want_ something I can _have_ it. I’m willing to sacrifice a few things or the greater good, and I_ know_ you are, too!”

“So you do regret it?” he asked, and now he looked at her, and she could see the pain in his eyes, reflected off the tears threatening to spill over. “You want to take it back? I won’t blame you, Katara, I understand. But don’t lie to me.”

“I’m _not_ lying!” she exclaimed, jumping up and throwing out her hands angrily. “I’m just—I’m trying to be responsible! I won’t put my wants before anyone else’s. I won’t _do_ that to Aang. I won’t put your life in _your own home Nation_ in even more in danger!”

“You’re circling again,” he said hollowly, getting to his feet. “You’re using excuses on the outside but you’re not saying how _you _feel. That’s all I want to know!”

“Zuko—”

“Tell me to leave,” he said hoarsely. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll go. I swear, I’ll never bother you again.”

“_Zuko_…” She was almost sobbing now. “I don’t—I could never—of _course_ I love you! I want nothing more than to love you. But we _can’t!_ You _know_ we can’t!”

Hurt still radiated off him in thick, hot waves. “I don’t blame you if you wish you didn’t. It would be so much easier for both of us.”

She glared at him. “I don’t know _why_ I thought we could have a _civilised_ conversation!” she snapped at him, storming for the entrance to the hut. As she passed him, he grabbed her by the arm. Not hard, but enough to take her attention. She turned back to glower at him.

“You don’t get to walk away this time,” he said, and she could see in his eyes the boy she had fallen for, the boy she had tried to hate. The fire burning deep inside him, the passion. He had such a strong send of right and wrong these days, he knew what he was worth and what he was owed. He knew he deserved the truth. “You can’t put this on a shelf until next time, Katara. It’s been three years. So tell me to leave,” he ordered, his voice little more than a growl. It was a low, rasping thing, closer to an animal’s purr than a person’s voice.

She looked up at him, eyes bright with defiance, bluer than any ocean or spirit. “I’m not going to give you an easy out, either, Zuko,” she said, “If you want to leave, if you want to burn our friendship too, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”

He scowled. “You said it as much as I have that—”

“I know,” she snapped, “But I never—_never_—said I regretted loving you. I have…” She paused for a moment, trying to put hr hurt and frustration into words, and the tears finally spilled over, smudging her paint. “I have loved you more fiercely than I thought was possible. I have subjected myself to the mortifying ordeal of being known. I have let myself be _seen_ by you. And you want me to say I _don’t love you?_ I will _never_ regret loving you. I don’t think I could ever stop, even if I wanted to.” She wrenched free of his grip. “I _want_ us to be together," she admitted, and the words in her mouth scared her, but it felt so freeing to finally put them to the air, to feel them on her tongue.

“And some part of me doesn’t care if the world burns down for it,” she said, still glaring at him. “And that scares me. If I could let myself be selfish, it would be because of you. Because you would die for me, and I would die for you, and that _terrifies_ me.” She shoved him, lightly, out of sheer frustration. “So don’t you ever, _ever_ say I _regret_ loving you!” she cried, turning to go once more, wiping at her tears, not caring if the face paint stained her sleeves.

Zuko caught her arm again, and when she turned to shout at him to let go, to leave it at that, the words died in her throat. She hadn’t realised how close he was. Her lips parted, but she found she had nothing to say.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t realise…” What? How much she loved him? How much she was scared by everything around her? It had seemed obvious, at least to her.

He opened his mouth, maybe to try again, to try and make sense of the thoughts, swirling around in his mind like a hurricane. And then Katara understood. That no words could really explain what was between them; no words could explain the fear that made her sick to her stomach, or the love that made her heart feel as though it might burst.

“Katara,” he started to say, but she shook her head. Reaching up with her free hand, she brushed his cheek, baffled at how it had taken her so long to realise it. She was so scared—of what would happen to the world, of hurting Aang, of Zuko getting hurt. She was scared of those she loved leaving her, like her father and even her mother a little bit. She was scared of how angry that made her. She was scared of how vulnerable it made her. But, she finally realised, she wasn’t scared of Zuko. She wasn’t scared of _this_.

“Katara…” Zuko said again, but it was more like a plea. His hands slid around her waist. He was asking, _begging_ for… for _her_.

She kissed him.


	25. Breakpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Katara finally give in to their feelings, and show each other how they feel.

How was it that the touch of their lips could be so gentle, yet unleash such a barrage of emotion? As soon as Katara let herself give into the feeling, the realisation that Zuko was just about the only thing she was sure of, it was as though floodgates had opened. Reaching up, she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him down, pulling him closer. One of his hands slid up her back, the other tightening around her waist, feeling the curve of her spine as she pressed herself against him.

She pulled away for a moment, panting for air. “Zuko—are you—?”

“Yes,” he breathed, cupping a hand behind her head as he ducked, pressing their foreheads together. With her hair up, she felt his fingers on the bare skin of her neck and shivered. It felt so strangely intimate, to have him touch her there. Or anywhere. Anything was intimate, when it was with someone you knew would die for you. He looked at her, eyes ablaze with a new kind of fire. “Are _you?_”

Katara looked at him, at her hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into the red-and-gold silk of his costume. For some reason, she felt not-quite-present, like she was watching through someone else’s eyes, or was in a dream. She couldn’t quite believe she was here, like this, that he had asked her that question and that her answer was, “Yes.”

Something glittered in his eyes, like even here and now, he hadn’t quite dared to believe she would say that. He kissed her again, more urgently than before, and one of her hands reached up to pull his hair free from its knot. His crown clattered to the floor, unimportant, and his shaggy hair fell over his face. _There_, she thought, feeling it brush her fingers as she put a hand on the back of his neck. There was the face of the boy who had almost died to save her, of the man she had fallen in love with. Not the Fire Lord, but _Zuko_.

The only thing she was sure of, right now.

She framed his face with her hands, guiding his lips to hers, for some reason sure she was going to cry, even though she wasn’t sad. Such was this relief, to finally admit that to herself, that all of those feelings were coming forth.

Zuko had never broken her heart, but maybe he had cracked it a little; when he’d sided with Azula at Ba Sing Se, when he’d taken that lightning, when he’d said Aang’s name after she’d kissed him the first time, and she’d refused to acknowledge that she was in love with two people.

Or at least, she _had_ been. Aang could have broken her heart, maybe. If they’d continued as they’d been doing, if she hadn’t spoken up. He would’ve broken her heart by slowly, obliviously letting her resent him. In leaving him, she’d likely saved them both, even if earlier tonight it had hurt a little to think of it again. If only she could’ve have saved them sooner. Maybe she wouldn’t be on the verge of tears, now. Maybe she and Zuko wouldn’t have spent these months—years, really—so confused and unsure.

He kissed her, desperately and roughly, like he was terrified that any moment, she might fade away. She nipped at his bottom lip, relishing the small moan it teased from him, scratching along his scalp, tangling her fingers in his hair. He tightened his grip around her waist, walking her backwards until she was pinned between him and the wall, the cool ice and his warm body. His hands went lower, sliding over the base of her spine, her behind, gripping the back of her thighs and lifting her clean off the ground.

She gasped into his mouth, and he felt her smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. He carried her through the red hanging that acted as a partition between the rest of the hut and where he slept, laying her gently down on the bed. She looked up at him in the dim light of the candles, casting dramatic shadows across the planes of his face. His features were sharp and regal, all hard, angular lines. Once upon a time, on a warm beach, watching two young men firebend, she had wondered what would happen if she put her lips to that jaw, those cheekbones. She had been sure she would have left a lip-print in blood on those razored edges.

The flames in his eyes softened his features, turning him from merely striking to entrancing. There was drive and determination, but also reverence. His hands were rough and calloused, but he touch was gentle, even as he bent to kiss her again, hot and desperate. She could feel how he quite simply _ached_ for her, for she felt the same, to be without him was physically painful somehow, she needed him close to her, closer than he was now, pressed so tight against her she could feel his heartbeat through their clothes, his pulse thrumming through his body, his blood calling out to her under the light of the full moon.

She had once been so scared of that side of her, but she had come to realise that she was only the sum of her decisions, not her thoughts, not her abilities, but her choices. Her choices had led her here, to be kissing him now, to be feeling his dry gasps when she caught his lip between her teeth, biting hard enough to be just this side of pain, so desperate for him that she thought—_knew_—she would be unable to bear it if he left her now, cold and alone.

“Zuko,” she whispered, not knowing how that sentence was supposed to end, but surely, that was enough; his name was enough. Right now, it was all she could ever think she would need. Just him. Just how he loved her, how he needed her.

He worshipped her, his lips on her skin; his eyes, his touch. And he did. The beautiful girl who he scarcely couldn’t believe _wasn’t_ a spirit, some merciful creature sent to alleviate his pain, to show him he was worthy of love. That fierce young woman he’d met almost four years ago, spirited and determined, who had given him only what he was worthy of; who had trusted him when he hadn’t deserved it, who had made him fight for his forgiveness, to know he was truly deserving of it. _Spirits_, to know she was in his arms, touching him, kissing him, he could hardly believe it.

She sat up, putting her hands on his chest to push him back slightly. He knelt before her, between her legs, head angles sharply down as he looked at her, rapt, lips slightly parted. Sliding her hands over his shoulders, Katara pulled the clasp at his collar, and he shrugged off the heavy, stiff fabric of the epaulettes. Underneath, his tunic and robe were smooth silk, so fine she could almost feel his skin underneath it. They came away more easily, sliding off his shoulders like water, leaving him only in his breeches and boots, and she was reminded of balmy summer days on Ember Island, of drilling Aang in firebending, of that anger and hurt misdirected at him, her vitriol worsened by the fact that there had been no denying, even then, she had found him utterly breathtaking.

In kind, his hands went to her waist, fumbling at the ties of her kimono, pulling away just a moment to ask that vital question, but all he saw in her eyes was willingness; for the first time in so long, she was sure of this.

Finally, he managed to work the complicated knot free, and the kimono slipped off her shoulders, settling in the crooks of her elbows. He ducked his head, sealing his lips over the soft skin of her throat, over her hammering pulse, holding her tighter when he heard the hitch of her breath, the breathless gasps of his name, urging him on.

His hands went to her hair, slowly pulling it free from the intricate bun that piled it atop her hair, until it ran down her back in thick curls, and he could tangle his fingers in it, anchoring himself to her. This hair, how he’d dreamed about this hair, tickling his face in his sleep, splayed out over the pillows of his bed, dark with water as she practiced her bending and gleaming under the Ember Island sun.

She leant back to lie down on the bed, pulling him with her. It was strangely invigorating, to realise how much smaller she was than him, how she could be so powerful and so deadly and at the same time so fragile, so delicate that he would happily spend a lifetime showering her with careful, soft kisses, gentler than a butterflymoth’s wings. Then again, he had always had a certain weakness for strong women, for those he knew could pin him to a wall with knives or ice, having their way with him if they so wanted.

She pulled her hands away, just for a moment, to shrug the kimono off of herself, leaving her in the elaborate underclothes of the costume. They were, compared to the kimono, far more revealing, and he delighted in running his hands along the curves of her waist and hips, gripping her tight and pulling her towards him. When he kissed her throat again, she arched her back off the soft mattress, pressing herself against him, her hands so tight around his shoulders he thought she might break him.

Then let her, he thought. Let her break him into a thousand pieces. She’d already seen the most desperate, raw, vulnerable parts of himself. This would be nothing but a formality. Let her break him and run her fingers over every piece; let him know what it was to be touched and held by her.

He rested his forehead against hers, their breathing heavy and shaking with faint disbelief. For a moment, they both watched, still and silent, as he knelt above her, and she lay underneath him, utterly transfixed by the other. Katara, with the face paint all but entirely wiped away, her hair mussed and wild over the cushions. And Zuko, left only in his breeches and boots, strong and beautiful, almost glowing in the golden light of the candles, pale as moonlight. Katara could hardly breathe for how stunning he was, and yet, she could see the shyness in his eyes, just a flicker away from shame.

She reached up, cupping his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. Her eyes asked the question her lips couldn’t quite form. _Why? Why are you ashamed?_

He raised his hand, covering her own, but his fingertips brushed the edge of his scar, and his other hand covered the one on his heart. How could he be worthy of her, how could she stand to see him like this, when he was marked so clearly? He had long-since stopped blaming himself for those scars, but they were nonetheless signs of his imperfection; they were his imperfection.

Katara leant up, pressing her lips to his cheek, to the rough, ridged flesh under his eye. It was warm, warmer than the rest of him. Trailing kisses over that side of his face she slowly made her way to his lips. “You’re beautiful,” she promised softly, stroking his scar with her fingers, so acutely aware that she was the only person other than Zuko himself to have ever touched his scar. “You’re beautiful,” she said again, and she meant it. He was beautiful for the fire in his eyes, for the strength in his arms and shoulders, for the morals in his heart and for the scar on his face and chest, the markings that proved beyond any doubt that he would, above all else, protect those he cared for. His countrymen, his friends, _her_.

He closed his eyes, leaning down to kiss her, soft and sad and gentle. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips, because he could never say it enough, and he needed to say it, now. He needed her to know how much she meant to him.

She did. Framing his face in her hands, she said, “I love you, too,” and as she lay back down on the bed she pulled him with her, felt the delicious pressure of his weight atop her, the sweet, quick brushes of his fingers as he trailed down her waist.

When his hand went to her breast, it was almost hesitant, and he pulled away just enough that she could see the question in his eyes. She nodded, kissing him again, unable to hold back the small moan when he squeezed his fingers over the soft flesh, as his other hand went to the lace at her back when she arched against him again, as he pulled the embroidered bodice away, leaving her in only her sarashis.

Maybe she should have felt embarrassed, or shy, but he had seen her like this before, and it was _Zuko_. It had been a long time since she had felt ashamed around him. A simple thing like clothes didn’t matter much after he’d seen her at her lowest, seen her confront the man who’d murdered her mother. Emotional nakedness was so much rawer, and there was a part of her that was glad, and strangely thrilled, to know he was seeing her like this.

Zuko himself felt his mouth go dry, unable to quite comprehend that Katara, lush and beautiful, fierce and determined, was lying before him, like this, right now. Long, elegant legs, alluring hips, enticing eyes. His touches became rougher, more insistent, driven by some formless, wordless need, and her grip around him tightened, spurring him on silently.

She was the first to be so daring as to put her hand down between them, feel the truth of his desire through the silk of his breeches, and he couldn’t choke back the dry gasp that pulled itself from his lips. She grinned against his mouth, moving her hand slowly, teasingly up and down, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck, moaning soft, vague encouragements. If she stopped, if she pushed him away, he would die. It would kill him.

“Katara…” He half-moaned, half-whispered her name, and the sound sent a bolt of fire to her abdomen. He managed to gather enough of his mental faculties to gently circle one of her wrists, pulling her hand away and pinning it to the mattress above her head. Then with his other hand, he trailed a gentle path over her bare stomach, and brushed her through her sarashis.

She wasn’t expecting it, and yelped slightly. He immediately recoiled, stricken, terrified he’d gone too far, or hurt her, but the way she moved beneath him made clear she only wanted more. He rested his weight on elbow, his arm crooked above her head, mouth level with hers, and he could feel the warmth of her breath, dry and panting, as he slowly trailed his fingers up her thigh, so acutely aware of how desperate she was, her body driving her mind, knowing what she wanted—_needed_.

That second brush was more tentative, and he gauged her reaction as he moved, watching her head tilt back, eyes flutter closed for brief moments. He watched her become consumed with that feeling, her free hand moving to grip his shoulder, urging him on. Where her hand touched his skin it burned like fire, like she was branding him, but he didn’t care. The idea of her marking him was thrilling, some physical proof that he was hers, that he would always be hers.

It had been the case since Ba Sing Se, even if it had taken them this long to realise it.

His fingers were feather light as he trailed up to her hips, and he ducked his head to kiss her stomach, nipping lightly, because there he knew he could leave marks. She loosely combed her fingers through his hair as the other fisted in the blankets, needing to grip something, to ground herself somewhere. When he pulled back, he saw the soft red marks on her hips and stomach, grinned to himself, then looked up at hers, eyes dark with wicked delight.

She swallowed, entranced by that look on his face. This roguish, rakish confidence, the secure knowledge that he could do whatever he wanted and she would only keep begging him to go on. He held her gaze as his fingers traced the edge of her sarashi, slowly dipping under, finding the soft, wet warmth.

Her gasp was half a moan; surprised, but pleased. She had never known such a feeling by anyone other than herself, and the shock, combined with the knowledge that it was Zuko, compounded upon that feeling until it was in another realm entirely.

He watched her, mouth open and gaping, utterly transfixed by her reactions, by the fact that it was _him_ doing this to her. Leaning over her, he planted soft, encouraging kisses on her cheekbones, her neck, her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, needing to feel him pressed to her. With his free hand he cupped the back of her head as she kissed him, traced the line of her collarbone, teased at her breast. Moving carefully and slowly, he learned her, understood what drove those wonderful noises, his fingers slowly circling, and he could see her climbing some invisible mountain, her breaths becoming quick and shallow, winding tighter and tighter until—

“_—Oh!_” she exclaimed, almost surprised. For several long moments, she watched white stars dance across her vision, until it was only Zuko left in focus, and he was grinning down at her. He kissed her, soft and lazy, and she stroked her fingers up and down his back, relishing in his shiver when she traced his spine. She was struck by the urge to sink her teeth into his shoulder, to leave some audacious, garish mark, to announce to the world that he was hers, that she was his. Her throat and stomach were dotted with red marks, and she was both embarrassed and delighted by them.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered to her, his voice low and rough. She shivered at the sound of it, a note of something she couldn’t quite identify, something dark and enticing.

“So’re you,” she promised him, kissing him again. He wrapped his arms around her and she sat up, shifting so she was in his lap. Feeling him against her, feeling him _there_, where only a moment ago his fingers had been, was she let out another soft moan, and he grinned against her mouth. She wondered what he would feel like in earnest. When she’d been younger, and Gran-Gran had explained these things to her, she hadn’t understood it at all. She hadn’t understood why love and sex would send people to do crazy things, impossible things, even _bad_ things. She hadn’t understood why people would think anything described there would feel _nice_.

How naïve she’d been.

His arms were wrapped around her, and she guided one of his hands to the small knot at the small of her back. When he pulled on it, her sarashis loosened, falling away in a single, long strip of white.

He stared at her again, brows twitching as he almost frowned. “Are—”

“Yes,” she cut across, leaning forwards to kiss him. She had never been more sure of anything in her life.

The sensation of his bare skin against hers was better than it had any right to be, than she’d ever expected it to be. Their kisses were rapidly becoming even more desperate, searching for some release they somehow knew they would only find with each other. Not just this basic drive of a human body, but the cumulative pain, anger, shock, friendship, _love_ of the nearly four years since they’d met. Since that first day he’d landed his ship on the coast of the Southern Water Tribe and demanded to know where the Avatar was, their destinies had been irrevocably tied together. Neither of them—no one at all—would’ve ever guessed it would’ve led them here, but here they were nonetheless, and neither of them would change anything for it.

Zuko pulled away from her, breathless and dizzy. The crook of her neck, her lips, her breast, all looked so inviting, but he forced himself to try and think straight, just for a moment. “Katara,” he said, and the way he said it sent shivers down her spine. “Are you—? I mean, have you…” He glanced down, a soft red blush deepening on his already-flushed cheeks.

At first confused, she soon realised what he meant. “No, I…” She blushed, too, though a lot harder. “I mean… Aang and I… Air Nomads wait until after marriage, traditionally…” In fact, that was the case in the Northern and Southern Water Tribes, too, but—in the Southern Tribe, at least—no one had actually ‘upheld’ that custom in generations.

Zuko smiled at her, half sweet, half predatory. “I’ll be gentle, then,” he said with a cheeky smile, his voice more like a purr than words.

She matched his smile, then leant forwards suddenly, kissing him roughly, pulling a small moan from his throat that he didn’t the chance to suppress. For all his talk, he was gentle-natured, she thought. That violence, that rage, that had all been his father and his trauma. Zuko was the boy who’d fed turtleducks, who’d begged for his sister to see reason, who sanctioned absolutely no violence against his people, his friends, or even his enemies, if it could be avoided. Perhaps that was why, even as she’d hated him, she’d never feared him.

Perhaps that was why—or partly why—she had fallen in love with him. It had been what had made her fall in love with Aang, after all.

But the idea of him being a little rougher, the pair of them being so wild, so desperate for one another, him sucking more of those marks into her skin—on her neck, her breast, her thighs—of her scratching his back and nibbling his ears, was far from unpleasant. As it stood for right now, however, she delighted in the way his fingers ghosts over her skin, in the softness of his lips, in how he simply adored her.

In turn, she traced the scars that mapped over his body, some thin lines, others dark splotches. She cupped her hand on the left side of his face, feeling the thick, rough ridges and wondering what it would feel like worrying the inside of her thigh, pressing kisses to both it and his unscarred cheek, finding each side equally beautiful—they were both, after all, a part of him.

They moved carefully and almost reverently as Zuko, lips chasing after his fingers, slowly worked away at the knot on her other sarashis, and she shucked off his breeches down over his hips and off his legs. She found out what his scar felt like and what he tasted like. Soft moans filled the small hut, echoing their careful, new touches, and he cried her name like a plea, a curse, a prayer. They’d been bare to one another before, but never like this. The supreme vulnerability that let a person give themselves over entirely to blind, base feeling, that let them show another person how to do it, was perhaps a little scary, but there was no denying the thrill of new experience, of sharing it with someone you loved.

After what felt like hours, both of them already hazy and warm from each other, reeling with the knowledge of what he felt like in her mouth, what she felt like under his tongue, he knelt over her, hips bracketed by her knees, one hand gripping her hip as though for purchase, as though he thought this was a dream that could slip away at any moment. Pressing their foreheads together, he stroked her cheek with his other hand, and she cupped his face in both his own. “Katara,” he whispered, so softly, she could barely hear it over the whistling of the wind. “Are you sure?”

They could still turn back. They could still replace their clothes and she could return to her hut, or to the Masquerade. It would be winding down by now, but they still could. They could go back to pretending. It just might kill him, but they could. And he would never begrudge her for it.

But she was tired of hiding. And he was the one thing she was sure of.

“Of course I’m sure,” she whispered back, “It’s you.”

He kissed her, hand moving from her hip to between their legs, lining them up. He moved slowly, both for her sake and to take in the feeling, of having her wrapped around him like this. He felt rather than heard the intake of her breath, and she placed her hand almost reverently over the mess of scarring in the centre of his chest. Even three years later, the sight of it brought so many feelings to the forefront. Guilt, sadness, awe, gratitude… _love_. It bound them together, a rope around their hearts. It could stretch over land and sea but it would never break, they could never truly be apart.

How foolish, they’d both been, to think something like that wouldn’t have shifted their relationship in such a fundamental way, that they could carry on being friends and allies after having seen each other in such ways. The Southern Raiders and the Agni Kai—perhaps they could have withstood one of those ordeals, but not both. This was how it had always been going to end.

“You okay?” he whispered in her ear.

“Y—yes,” she replied, shaking, but not from fear or pain. She was far more than okay, but she couldn’t quite find the words to explain it. He struck up a slow, gentle rhythm, almost losing himself in the sweetness of her; warm and soft and tight. Each movement brought another delighted gasp from her, heightened her need simply for more. More of him.

Zuko could hardly think straight—no, he _couldn’t_ think straight. Seeing her like this, touching her like this, holding her like this. What spirits had seen fit to bless him with her? To let her love him? He propped himself up on his elbows, just enough to keep his full weight off her. Where they touched, his skin burned—how could a waterbender be so warm? But then she’d always had her own sort of inner fire.

“Katara,” he whispered again. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, swearing to Agni, to Tui, to La, to _her_, her name on his lips as if she were a spirit; some beautiful, merciful spirit who had somehow seen something in him worth loving.

“Zuko,” she whispered back, and he raised his head. She clung to him, her fingers tangled in his hair. “Zuko, _please_, I_—_” She didn’t know what she was asking for, only that she wanted him, needed him, just _him_.

He pressed his forehead to hers, one hand tangling in a long curl of her hair. “Katara…” he managed, between one gasping breath and the other. She leant up and kissed him, one hand curling around the back of his neck, the other clinging to his lower back. Just a little bit more, she thought, just a little more…

With a moan that she muffled in the crook of his neck, she stiffened, then relaxed, dazed and tingling. A moment later, Zuko did the same, and with a low groan, buried his face between her breasts, shuddered, then went limp. He stayed there for a little while, just managing to raise his head and kiss her sweetly, one hand still tangled in the ends of her hair. After a while, he found the energy to move off of her, to scoop her up in his arms and tuck her under the soft blankets, climbing in beside her. It felt different to how it had been in Ba Sing Se, maybe because this time it was bare skin on bare skin. Maybe because this time, they hadn’t agreed an end date.

Katara rested her head on his chest, looking at the scar, running her fingers over it lightly. “I love you,” she said quietly. Zuko ducked his head to kiss the top of her hair, muttering his reply into her curls. He ran his hand slowly up and down her arm and shoulder. Partnered with the deep feeling of satisfaction, of safety, of _relief_, almost, Katara felt her eyes become heavy, and she snuggled into him.

Zuko’s voice broke through the haze of sleep pulling her underneath. “We’re okay, right?”

She could hear the slight note of worry in his voice. Under his own satisfaction and safety and relief. _What now?_

Tilting her head back, she looked up at him, moving her hand from his chest to trace the line of his jaw and pull him down for a long, slow kiss. It was the simplest, easiest thing in the world, just then. How had she ever agonised over something like this?

Truthfully, she knew why. Because they were both constantly so afraid of hurting each other and everyone else.

“We’re okay,” she promised him, when she pulled away. And they were. Tomorrow, they would work out the details, decide how to tell the others, whether to go fully public or keep things quiet. Tomorrow.

As for right now, this was the Fire Lord’s hut, and no one would dare enter to disturb them. As for right now, they could sleep.

So they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defence, I _did_ tag this as a slow burn right from the start... Hope you enjoyed the spiciness ;)


	26. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having finally committed to one another and fully given into their feelings, Zuko and Katara begin to figure out how and where to go from here; who to tell, when, and how.

Sunrise was inevitable, and with it came a number of questions that both Katara and Zuko had vowed to answer, but that didn’t mean they _knew_ those answers.

Being a firebender, it was no surprise to Zuko that he was the first to wake, and when he looked down to see Katara still cradled in his arms, hair splayed out over his arm and pillows, he could scarcely believe it hadn’t all been some wonderful, impassioned dream. She was peaceful, when she slept, the pressures and worried of her life swept away. In the light of the rising sun, sparkling off the white snow outside, she practically glowed.

He shifted underneath her, waking her gently, and her eyes fluttered open. Impossibly, exceptionally blue. Bluer than water and music and hope.

“So…” she murmured, “That wasn’t a dream.”

“Apparently not,” he replied. She sat up, pulling the blanket to her shoulders to cover herself. “Which begs the question… what do we do now?”

Katara absently combed the fingers of one hand through her bedraggled curls. “I… don’t know,” she admitted, “I don’t want to lie to people. But I don’t know if I…” she trailed off.

“Want to announce it to absolutely everyone?” Zuko finished. She nodded, and he was a little relieved. He felt much the same. “How about we just… don’t tell people. If they ask, we can be honest. But we can take it slow?”

She smiled at him. “Slow sounds good.” Slow like the tides on a calm day, like a candle; not a tempest or a wildfire. Zuko looped an arm around her shoulders as he, too, sat up, and rested against the headboard of the bed, the threading the fingers of his other hand with hers. She looked at their joined hands, his so much larger and paler than her own, but they had the same scars, the same strength. Hands that could be so dangerous, that could conjure fire, but also so very gentle, ghosting over her skin with feather-light touches. “I feel like Suki will figure it out pretty soon, though,” she added.

“And Toph,” Zuko pointed out. There was, literally, no lying with her.

“They’ll both keep quiet, if we ask them to,” she assured him. “Aang is the one I… I’m most… concerned about…”

“He needs to hear it from you,” Zuko said at once, “It’s only fair. And he’ll feel betrayed if it comes from anyone else—even me.”

Katara nodded. “You’re right. Should I… tell him now?”

“Dumping that on him right before he leaves? Probably not the best idea,” Zuko remarked, “Then again, we can’t exactly put it in a letter.”

She thought for a moment. “Well… Suki and Sokka said they would be getting married in the winter. Maybe then?” It would certainly give them both enough time to completely figure out where they stood, she thought. And allow them to become more used to not having to hide their affections, from each other or from everyone else.

Zuko smiled at her, leaning down to kiss her. It was soft and sweet, and even though it wasn’t the first time he’d kissed her—far from it—it felt new and fragile. “I’m with you,” he told her, cupping her face with the hand not looped around her shoulders. As long as he was with her, he didn’t mind.

Katara beamed up at him. “Okay then,” she said, “Then… we should probably get dressed, and figure out a reason for my having spent the whole night in your room.” Still keeping the blanket wrapped around herself, she stood up and set about finding her sarashis.

Decency protected by a second blanket, Zuko gave an easy shrug. “You were helping me with the He Ping Cheng plans,” he said, “It’s what we told Aang.”

She bit her lip, unsure about how easy lying seemed to come to her sometimes. “I think he might know something’s up,” she said, “We weren’t exactly… subtle.”

Getting to his feet, Zuko said, “We weren’t planning to do anything.”

“No, but… I still lied to him. And the more I do, the worse he’s going to take it when we come clean.” She gripped her sarashis tight. “No more lies.”

Being fully, unapologetically honest with Aang was something she’d always struggled with. Last night had been the first real conversation they’d had since he’d held out that necklace to her and asked her to marry him. _Spirits… _ Looking at herself in the small mirror propped against the wall, she brushed her fingers over the small disc on her mother’s necklace, the only piece of clothing she’d kept on last night. If she took it off, she would surely have a plain stripe around her neck showing the one place Zuko hadn’t been able to kiss bruises onto. Already several, purple and obvious, had bloomed like flowers on her skin.

This wasn’t going to be easy, but it needed to be done. Zuko located his breeches and pulled them on before wrapping his arms around her from behind and planting a kiss on her bare shoulder. She tingled where his lips touched her. “No more lies,” he murmured against her skin, “Sounds good to me.”

Seeing his reflection in the glass, Katara saw that however bad her throat was, _his_ was orders worse. She wanted to pretend it was simply because of his skin being so much paler, but she knew that was only part of the reason.

He caught her looking, then noticed his reflection, and a blush painted itself across his cheeks. “I suppose I should count myself lucky that Fire Nation robes have high collars, huh?”

Turning around in his arms, Katara leant up and kissed him languorously, divinely. Ideas of doing much more damage came to mind; having those little bruises peppering his chest and stomach, her hips and thighs. “I can’t believe you have to go back to the Fire Nation today,” she muttered as they parted.

Zuko sighed, his breath ruffling the top of her hair a little. “Me neither,” he admitted, “You could come with me, though? You’re always welcome at the Fire Nation, you know that.”

She did know that. “Don’t you think it would be a little suspicious?” she asked. He shrugged.

“Maybe, but people already know we’re friends, and that you’re helping me with the He Ping Cheng project.”

Katara shook her head. “I need to tell Aang, it’s only fair. And if I immediately speed off to the Fire Nation with you… it’ll hurt him.”

Zuko nodded, hugging her close, before finally they had to let go and get dressed. Katara washed what little remained of her face paint off and brushed her hair out until it no longer looked like she’d spent the night fooling around. Zuko replaced his masquerade costume, minus the mask, and tugged the collar of his tunic up as high as it would go. By the time they sat down in the common area of the hut and spread out the papers, genuinely getting down to a bit of work, no one would have been any the wiser.

And indeed, when a Councilmember’s silhouette appeared behind the thick, heavy sealskin that kept out the cold and snow, and Zuko allowed him to enter, his only comment was, “Princess Katara, have you been here all night?”

“Politics never rest, Councilman,” she replied, “But if people are getting up and moving around, I should probably take my leave so you can prepare to return home.” Getting to her feet, she smiled fondly at Zuko. “I’ll see you at the docks later?”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here,” the Councilmember said, “The Avatar has asked that the Fire lord—and you, too, I suppose, Princess—join him for lunch before everyone departs.”

Katara nodded. “In that case, I’ll see you soon,” she said.

“See you soon,” Zuko smiled, hoping his smile didn’t look as dopey as he thought it did.

* * *

Outside, in the blinding whiteness of a summer day in the South Pole, Katara had to blink a few times to force her vision to adjust. She almost immediately spotted Suki, because Suki immediately spotted her.

“KATARA!” she called, running over to her. “I was looking for you, Aang wants—”

“I know,” Katara replied, “One of the Fire Nation Councilmembers told me.”

“Fire Nation—?” Suki began, then stopped as she took in Katara’s clothing. “_Spirits_, you—did you spend the _whole night_—?”

“Not out here!” Katara said quickly, taking Suki by the wrist and leading her into her own hut. Behind the blue hanging acting as a partition, her bed was undisturbed. With a sigh, she turned to Suki and said, “Yes. I spent the night in Zuko’s hut.”

Suki clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. “You said you weren’t going to _do_ anything!” she accused, “You said that the pair of you—you said nothing else was going to _happen!_”

“Technically, I didn’t…” Katara said weakly. “But—yes, I know—but… me and Zuko—it just… _happened_.”

“Oh, _please_,” Suki scoffed, waving a hand, “He just _happened_ to trip and your clothes just _happened_ to fall off and he just _happened_ to land _inside _of you.” When Katara turned bright red, she gave a small shriek. “You… I was _kidding!_ But the two of you—? You _actually_—?”

Katara swallowed, then said in a very small voice. “Yes?”

From the colour Suki’s face had turned, Katara wondered if she was going to spontaneously combust. When she managed to regain the power of speech, she took Katara’s hands and said, “Katara, you have no idea how happy I am for the pair of you, but for the love of Yue: tell me everything!”

Katara stared at her. “_What?_”

“I want to know everything,” Suki insisted, “_Details_, give me _details_. Was he tender? Rough? _Oh!_ What did his—”

“_Please stop talking!_” Katara cried, pulling her hands away. “I… I’ve barely had a moment to even think about it _myself_, I wouldn’t even know where to _begin_.”

Suki’s excitement calmed a little. “Oh, Katara,” she said, “You… everything’s _okay_, right?”

Katara looked at Suki, then pulled her into a hug. “Everything’s fine,” she said, pulling away and setting her hands on Suki’s shoulders. “It was… wonderful,” she admitted. “I… I just can’t quite believe it actually _happened_.”

“I still want details,” Suki told her, giving a playful nudge. “The first guy you… _y’know_…” She made a vague gesture and wiggled her eyebrows. Katara flushed and covered her face with her hands.

“I really… don’t know what to think,” she confessed, “I love him, I do, but… I didn’t expect this to _happen_.”

“So are the two of you going to give it a real go?” Suki asked hopefully.

Katara bit her lip, then nodded. Suki grinned so wide surely her cheeks would hurt later. “We haven’t figured out all the details,” Katara told her, “How much to make public and stuff, but… Obviously I need to talk to Aang and come clean.”

Suki’s smile died like a flame smothered by water. “You haven’t spoken to him already?” she asked.

Katara eyed her, suddenly uneasy. “Last night, I… me and Zuko left the masquerade to talk—I swear, that was the only thing I intended. I wanted to know exactly where we stood before I said anything to Aang. I didn’t want to get him all riled up over something me and Zuko might decide should be put to rest.”

“You need to talk to him,” Suki said, “He… Just as soon as you get the chance. If you leave this too long, he’ll think you were trying to hide it from him.”

Things were getting messy again, so unbelievably messy. The ground seemed to sway underneath Katara, and she stuck out an arm to lean against the wall. Suki put her hands on Katara’s shoulders to try and ground her. “It’ll be okay,” she said, “But you have to come clean, and soon.”

“Do you think I shouldn’t have done it?” Katara whispered from between her fingers.

“And by ‘it’ do you mean Zuko?” Suki asked with a grin, then sobered. “Sorry. It was right there. And I’m not going to make any comments on what you should or shouldn’t have done—it’s in the past, and I wasn’t there. As long as you both… enjoyed yourselves, then it doesn’t matter. But Aang’s going to be hurt if you keep this from him. It’s not just a few kisses anymore, it’s a real relationship.”

_Relationship_. The word seemed to send alarm bells ringing in her head. Her old fears about what people might think threatened to rear up and knock her aside like a doll, but she swallowed and forced them down. She was sure of very few things in this strange, fast-changing world she’d helped forge, but her mutual love for Zuko was one of them. As sure as the love she bore for her father and brother and friends, she loved him, too, and nothing was going to change that.

“Do… do you think he’s going to be okay?”

Suki thought about this. “He’s not going to like it,” she admitted, “And it might take some time for him to get used to it, but… he’s your friend. And he loves you both. Plus,” she added with a smile, “Toph’ll knock some sense into him if need be.”

Katara managed a nervous laugh. She had to give it to Suki, she wasn’t interested in pretty lies, however comforting they might be. Aang _wasn’t_ going to like the fact that his ex-girlfriend was now dating the person he’d seen as a romantic rival since the play on Ember Island. Suki squeezed her shoulders. “Me, Sokka and Toph, we’ll be there for you—_both _of you, I promise. And—” She folded her arms. “I bet Sokka will be pleased. I didn’t want to say anything before you two had made your decisions, but… He was kind of rooting for you two.”

“I—what?” Katara stared at her. “Why?”

Shrugging, Suki replied, “He could see how much Zuko cares about you. And how much you care about him. All of us could. Even Aang. That’s probably why he was sometimes a bit jealous.”

The memory of her first kiss with Zuko, in the Fire Nation palace, exploded into Katara’s mind. It would have been so very easy for the two of them to try things out then, for her and Aang to have remained friends. And perhaps it would have been kinder to him—to herself, to everyone—if that had happened. But as Suki had pointed out, that was in the past, and there was no changing it. All she could do now was be honest with him, and hope that he had grown enough to understand that she couldn’t help her feelings, but she was done trying to separate herself from them.

No wonder she and Aang hadn’t worked, she realised. Everyone she was close to, everyone she loved, knew how passionately she felt, knew how her feelings fuelled her goals and actions. In trying to be there for Aang, she had forced herself to deny her feelings, to govern herself with her mind instead of her heart. No wonder her relationship with Aang had been doomed.

Whereas with Zuko… she had always felt, and felt strongly. Not about his responsibilities or his destiny, like with Aang, but about _him_. She had hated the prince who had hunted them and betrayed her, she had felt sorry for the boy whose country and family had rejected him, she had fallen in love with the young man who would have sacrificed himself to save her. She had never been able to separate her feelings from him, even when she’d known she was being unfair in her anger, even when she’d known it was messy to be in love with him.

“It would have been so much simpler…” she murmured, “If we’d just…”

“Gotten together at the end of the War?” Suki finished with a wry smile, “Maybe. But for whatever reason, you two weren’t ready. And maybe it’s healthier that you both had a meaningful relationship that didn’t work out before trying this. Sokka had Yue, and I had Mosha. You have a better idea of what to expect.”

Mosha, Suki’s first boyfriend, was a young man on Kyoshi Island who had a habit of foaming at the mouth when overly excited. They had dated for a period of a few months not long before Katara, Sokka and Aang had first come to Kyoshi.

“Maybe…” Katara admitted, “It would be less messy right now, though.”

“People change, Katara,” Suki reminded her, “When you first met Zuko, you wouldn’t have dated him, and he wouldn’t have dated you.” Katara balked at the idea of having a relationship with the belligerent, nationalistic boy who’d made landfall on the coast of the South Pole and threatened the Tribe. He’d been angry and unstable and had terrible hair. He’d grown, of course, but she still didn’t like the boy she’d first met, even if she felt sorry for him. “And both of you changed a lot in the War, but maybe not enough to be where you both are right now.”

That made sense, Katara supposed. But the idea of telling the others—especially Aang and her father—was daunting. She hoped she could convince Aang that nothing had happened until after she’d broken up with him, because it was the truth, and it would maybe assuage his hurt or frustration. She also hoped he didn’t ask when she’d first started having feelings for Zuko, because that question came with a very different answer.

Was it worse, she wondered, to fall in love with someone else or to kiss someone else? One was such a deeper, more meaningful betrayal, but only one could consciously be controlled.

* * *

Chief Arnook, King Bumi and King Kuei all took their leave in the late morning, setting sail from the port in their fancy boats, and everyone was delighted to see another Summit concluded successfully. Kuei was practically buzzing with excitement, full of new ideas for He Ping Cheng and plans for the next Summit, which was to be held in his palace in Ba Sing Se. As Zuko bid him goodbye, he hoped Kuei—or one of his advisors—would suggest dialling back the fanciness so it wasn’t quite so… sickening.

He knew the class imbalance in the Fire Nation needed a lot of work, but he’d been actively working to better it since assuming the throne. It was as much a humanitarian goal as a political one; contented people didn’t want wars or revolutions or tyrants ruling, but Ba Sing Se’s was even more drastic, and it didn’t seem like the Upper Ring residents particularly cared about remedying it.

Maybe Aang or Katara—someone who curried more favour than the son of a long line of warmongers—could politely suggest something to Kuei. In visiting the colonies last winter with Katara, he’d heard the phrase ‘Earth Republic’ more than once. Overthrowing rulers, whether to replace them with more benevolent ones or entirely new systems of government, never came peacefully. Now that the War was over, people would want to know why their governments couldn’t use time, people and money previously spent fighting to improve their infrastructure.

But as for right now, he pushed those thoughts aside. The Summit had literally just concluded, and he hadn’t yet returned to the Fire Nation to give the Council the necessary report and project updates. As for right now, he could spend a lazy afternoon with his friends.

And Katara.

He wondered if she was going to tell the others now, or wait. Dropping something on them just as they were about to leave seemed unkind and cowardly, but breaking news over a letter or waiting until they all saw each other again wasn’t much better. All the same, he couldn’t bring himself to feel remotely guilty about what they’d done last night. He’d had many sleepless nights thinking about Katara, and it had exceeded all of his expectations. Not to say that it had been ‘perfect’—it had been wonderful, but not perfect. And these perfect imperfections were what made it irrevocably, breathtakingly real.

They sat down together not in the Council Hall, but the Chief’s ‘palace’, which was the closest thing the South had to anything resembling the Northern Tribe’s architecture. Sokka and Katara both had rooms there, but they generally preferred to sleep in their own smaller and more private huts.

However, it was an excellent place to host larger groups of people without losing the sense of intimacy that came with sitting in the massive Summit halls. A table surrounded by several cushions was in the centre of the room, the huge rug underneath bearing the Southern Tribe’s Crest. By the time Zuko had arrived, Suki and Katara were already sat there, and from the grin Suki gave him when he entered, she already knew.

He took a seat beside Katara and Suki immediately said, “I’m so happy for the pair of you!”

“Thanks,” he replied, reaching under the table to give Katara’s hand a squeeze. She smiled as she squeezed back. “But I’m not entirely sure who we’re telling.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Suki said quickly, “I’ll keep my mouth shut for as long as you need me to.”

“Hopefully not _too_ long,” Katara admitted, “We just need to be delicate about—”

“Aang!” Suki said loudly, and both Katara and Zuko looked up to see Aang standing at the door, grinning at them all. Zuko immediately let go of Katara’s hand and smiled at Aang as he took a seat on his other side. “How did you sleep?”

“Not bad,” he replied, “But I’m excited to be going back to the Western Temple. We’re hoping to have it finished before the Summit in Ba Sing Se next year.”

“Many earthbending hands make for light work, I suppose,” Suki remarked, then grinned as Sokka and Toph entered, talking so loudly that one could be forgiven for thinking they were arguing. But no, they would always insist they were ‘debating passionately’.

“Do I want to know?” Suki asked as Sokka sat on her other side, and Toph sat between him and Aang, completing the little circle.

Sokka gave a laugh. “Toph reckons she could use the cliffs next to the port to make another watchtower,” he explained, “I think the one we have is _just_ fine.”

“It’s made of _ice_.”

“Yeah, but we’re in the _South Pole._ Last I checked, ice stays solid down here. Anyway,” he turned to Suki. “How’s my _fiancée_ on this fine morning?” He was never going to get tired of saying that.

And Suki didn’t seem to get tired of hearing it, if her light blush was anything to go by. Sokka looped an arm around her shoulders and said to them all, “So, we’ll see you on Kyoshi in winter?”

Katara smirked. “You know we wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Never,” Aang agreed, “And I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to hang out with all of you, it’ll be just like old times! Except, well, the world won’t be at war.”

“And I think we can all agree it’s a great improvement,” Katara said.

Toph reached for her cup, holding it aloft and saying, “I’ll drink to that.”

They all did, passing the meal with the easy camaraderie that can only emerge from having braved incredible, dangerous and bizarre exploits together. They could not have turned their backs on one another if they’d tried; from the moment Katara had split open that ice bubble by sheer force of righteous fury, their destinies had been tied together, intricate as a tapestry.

As they all laughed together, Katara snuck one hand under the table to link her fingers with Zuko’s. Everyone else was so caught up in Sokka’s stories or the good food that they didn’t notice. In that gentle squeeze of his fingers was all the promises they had made to one another. They didn’t know exactly how things were going to go from here, but whatever happened, they would do it together. All of them.


	27. Similarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Summit is successfully concluded, and Katara and Zuko bid goodbye to each other on the understanding that there still remains things to be done; people to talk to. Back at the Fire Nation, Zuko enlists help from an unlikely suspect.

Aang left later that afternoon. The Air Acolytes had left with the rest of the delegates in the morning, but since he had Appa, and was the Avatar, he had a little more freedom. Toph left with him, since she was coming to help with the Western Temple’s restoration for a few weeks before returning to the Earth Kingdom, and Suki and Sokka were hitching a ride to Kyoshi. Soon enough, the only non-Southern-Tribe boat in the harbour was the Fire Nation vessel, and Zuko and the Councilmembers were boarding to leave, too.

“You could come with me,” he said to Katara as they stood on the docks, a respectful distance apart. It would be little more than a disaster if some Councilmember became suspicious and started a rumour. Even if the rumour was absolutely true, it was ripe gossip, and would sweep the entire Fire Nation quicker than an inferno. And fire was catching—before either of them could hope to control it, it would have reached Aang’s ears before Katara had a chance to explain everything. “You _are_ the Southern Tribe’s Ambassador. And I could use your help with the He Ping Cheng project.”

“I know,” Katara admitted, “And you have it. But I have things I need to do here. And… I was thinking of travelling on my own for a while.”

Zuko raised an eyebrow. “You’d need to keep an eye out for the Blue Spirit if you did that,” he said lightly.

She smirked at him, catching his question, then sobered. “I have the power to take care of others. There’s…” She paused. “There’s so much good I can do, Zuko. Staying in one place, whether it’s the Tribe or the Fire Nation or even He Ping Cheng… That’s not me. At least, not right now.” Who knew how she would feel, ten years from now? She was only eighteen. Maybe she would want to settle, start a family. Maybe she would return to the South Pole—there was even a chance she could become Chief. If Sokka didn’t want the position, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t.

But as for right now, she wanted adventure and justice. She was young and fierce, empowered by the strength and determination of youth, of someone who had not and would not let the bleakness of the world make her turn away and give up. Sitting in Council meetings was not what she wanted to do—what she _needed_ to do. “I’m the Southern Tribe’s Ambassador, I want people to know they can come to us if they need help.”

“I understand that,” Zuko replied, “And the last thing I want to do is make you feel… obligated. Just know that you’re always welcome in the Fire Nation… Ambassador,” he added with a smile.

Katara grinned at him, then stepped forwards and gave him a hug, the most she could bring herself to risk, standing here. He accepted it gracefully, then they parted, he boarded the ship, and it set sail.

Another Summit _officially_ over.

* * *

In the Council Hall, Hakoda was looking over the various papers and agreements that had been discussed, penning letters to the necessary representatives and the other Chiefs. The Summit was over, which meant the real work was only just beginning. He looked up when Katara walked in and smiled.

“Zuko leave okay?” he asked.

Katara nodded. “I think some of the Councilmembers were a little annoyed he wasn’t sent off by the Chief himself,” she remarked.

Hakoda snorted. “I don’t think I’ll lose any sleep over that.” Diplomacy was, of course, the order of the day, but when the only person who could hear him was his daughter, who knew even better than him the pettiness and snobbery of the various noble officials in the Fire Nation, he knew he could voice his true opinions. “How did you find the Summit? You and Zuko certainly spent a lot of time working out the details of that city-state.”

“That’s… actually something I wanted to talk to you about, Dad,” she said, coming to sit opposite the table from him. As she made herself comfortable on the pillow, Hakoda raised an eyebrow.

“Are you going to ask to go to the colonies?” he asked, “I’d sort of assumed that, sweetheart. You’re the Tribe’s Ambassador, that will take you all over the world, and you’re very involved in making sure no one’s short-changed on the He Ping Cheng project.”

Katara bit her lip. “I know that,” she said, “And, _yes_, once the city is properly founded and given an independent government, I’ll probably be spending a few months there with Suki and the others, but… I was talking about me and Zuko.”

Now Hakoda frowned. “What about _you and Zuko?_” he asked, and was he picking up on her tone, or was he just a man with a son who’d just gotten engaged?

“Um… well…” She swallowed. “He…” Suddenly, a different question came to mind. “Were you upset that I broke up with Aang last year?”

Hakoda blinked. “Well… a bit, I suppose,” he replied, “But only because you were in a relationship you didn’t like. You know I had my… _concerns_ about you and Aang,” he said delicately, then gave a warm smile. “You know I only want for you and Sokka to be safe and happy.”

That was a bigger weight off Katara’s mind than she’d anticipated—maybe she was more worried about telling people than she’d thought. “I do know that, Dad,” she said, “Which… I wanted to tell you that…” She swallowed. “MeandZukoaredating.”

She’d spoken so quickly that Hakoda hadn’t quite caught it. “What?”

“Me—me and Zuko. Are dating,” she repeated, slower and more haltingly. “We… we kissed in Ba Sing Se last winter and… we decided to… give things a go.”

Hakoda’s frown returned with a vengeance, dark brows knitting together. “You and… Zuko.” He spoke flatly, not asking her to confirm, but confirming to himself that he had heard correctly. “Have you been dating all this time?”

“No!” she said quickly, “No, we… we said we weren’t going to… to _risk_ things. What with how unstable the Fire Nation is and—and how it might hurt Aang, but… I love him, Dad,” she said, smiling almost embarrassedly. “And he loves me. So… we’re trying this out for real.”

“I… see…” Hakoda said slowly. “Well… you’re my little girl, and I don’t want to see you hurt. But you’re also a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. And, frankly, I think you could do a lot worse than Zuko.”

Katara stared at him. She’d been expecting hesitance, resistance, not this. She hadn’t even _dreamed_ her father would say _that_. “What?”

Hakoda shrugged. “Zuko threw himself in front of lightning for you. And I might not be _his_ father, but I can tell when someone is running themselves ragged in trying to live up to everyone’s expectations and their own impossible standards.” Katara wondered if he was talking about her or Sokka when he said that. “And, I’ll be honest… I’m not surprised. I always knew you two were close. What you endured together… it leaves a mark. Not necessarily a physical one, but it’s there. And he has such a rigid sense of honour and duty, I know he won’t do anything untoward. Not that you couldn’t flatten him easily,” he added calmly, picking up a paper to glance at it perfunctorily.

Katara was still staring at him. “So… you’re okay?” she asked, “With… me? Him? _Us?_”

He shrugged again. “As ‘okay’ as I can be about the prospect of a man dating my daughter,” he replied. Then he looked at her again. “Is this about when I asked if you were thinking about marriage?”

Katara’s cheeks burned as she cast her mind back to that not-quite-argument she and Hakoda had had sometime between the first Summit and the second one. He’d asked if she and Aang had given any thought to ‘the future’ and Katara, assuming he’d wanted to know when she was going to marry and settle down, had gotten angry. “Maybe…”

Hakoda sighed. “I was trying to get you to more consider what you’d mentioned at the first Summit,” he explained. “You expressed some… reservations about Aang, and I didn’t want you to get trapped by your refusal to be honest for fear of hurting him.”

“You… did?” she asked, voice sounding not quite her own, like she was outside her own body, watching this conversation, but not part of it.

Hakoda rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. “Sweetheart, I didn’t want to tell you this when you and Aang were dating, but I always thought Zuko would be a better fit for you,” he said, “From what Gran-Gran told me, both he and Aang have grown a lot since when you first met them, a _lot_,” he emphasised, because he’d heard no end of stories about the angry teenager who’d sort-of terrorised the remnants of his Tribe and collapsed Sokka’s watchtower, “But Aang is still very… boyish,” he said carefully. “Maybe that’s just how the Air Nomads were. I have no doubt he’ll be a great man, and he’s already a truly amazing Avatar, but you and him are very different, and you need _some_ similarities.”

Katara frowned. “What do you mean?”

He gave another sigh. “I mean… from all the talks I’ve had with Zuko, both about relations between the Tribe and the Fire Nation and just casually… He respects you. You understand each other better. I can’t speculate why that is, specifically, but you do. You two clash so much because you’re so similar.”

Katara would speculate. Maybe because she’d been the first one to trust him. Maybe because he’d fought so hard to earn her forgiveness. Maybe because they’d both slipped so naturally into the parental roles of their group. Maybe because she’d never had any problems telling him exactly how she felt. Maybe because she’d never _had_ to explain herself for him to _understand_ how she felt. He just… got it.

“I thought you’d be upset,” she confessed, “That I threw away a future with the Avatar…”

Hakoda gave a warm smile. “I’ll never be upset about you throwing away a future with someone you don’t love. It wouldn’t be much of a future.”

She hadn’t thought about it that way. Feeling considerably lighter, Katara got to her feet. “Well, then… I… I’m glad that’s all sorted.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Hakoda said, as she made to leave, “I _will_ be interrogating him the next time we see him. He’s one of Sokka’s deckhands, isn’t he?”

“Ugh, Dad…” Katara exclaimed, and just like that it was like they were a normal family with normal problems. “You’re not interrogating Zuko at Sokka’s wedding!”

“I won’t do it at the actual wedding!” Hakoda replied, grinning in that conspiratorial I’m-embarrassing-my-child-and-I-think-it’s-funny way, “I’m not incompetent—I’ll wait for the reception!”

“_Dad!_”

* * *

Zuko was surprised, a few days after arriving home in the Fire Nation, to receive a letter delivered by Hawky. That in itself was not peculiar, more the fact that it wasn’t from Sokka, but from Suki.

_Dear Zuko_, it said, _I hope you’re okay, that everything in the Fire Nation is going smoothly. I wanted to tell you that Katara told me about how late you two were up on the night of the masquerade, working on the He Ping Cheng Project._

He frowned at that; if Katara had said anything to Suki, she wouldn’t have lied. But then he remembered that he was the Fire Lord, and that could generally be counted to mean that his letters were less secure than most, especially when a not-insignificant number of his Council would happily see him dethroned.

_I just wanted to tell you,_ Suki’s letter continued, _that if you ever wanted to talk to me about your work on the project, I’d be happy to help. Me and Sokka have some experience in rebuilding._ That, Zuko was certain, ought to be taken to mean she had experience in navigating the sometimes-muddy waters of love. He didn’t doubt it, but he was sure they’d never come across a situation quite _this_ complicated. They also had experience in actual rebuilding—both the Southern Water Tribe and Kyoshi Island were flourishing thanks to their post-war efforts.

_You should also know I’ve sent a letter to Katara, saying the same. And I think it might be beneficial to the project if she went to the Western Air Temple for a bit and asked for Aang’s opinion on the whole thing. He’s still young, but he wants the best for everyone. Of course, that’s entirely up to you two. _

_Please, write back and tell me what you think. I’m a bit of a politician in my own right, now, and I’d like to know how it turns out!_

_I’ll see you in winter!_

_—Suki _

Despite his efforts to stop it, a slow, sly smile crawled its way up Zuko’s face. _That sly foxcat_, he thought, chuckling to himself. No wonder Sokka adored her; she was just as cunning and clever as he was.

Of course, too, she was right. Just as it would’ve been rude to spring it on Aang at the last minute, as they all prepared to leave, waiting until the winter and then possibly ruining Suki and Sokka’s wedding was equally unfair. Katara travelling to the Western Temple appeared to be the closest to a reasonable option they had left. Katara, if she’d received Suki’s other letter, would no doubt come to the same conclusion.

Which begged the question: should he go with her?

Even discounting their respective duties as Fire Lord and Southern Tribe Ambassador, would it be better if Katara went alone, or if he went with her? If he came along, Aang could feel like they were ganging up on him—especially since Toph (who he was sure knew about him and Katara; she had excellent hearing and they hadn’t need all that quiet) would be at the Air Temple too. But if he _didn’t_ go along, would Katara or Aang feel like he was hiding from them? Trying to avoid scrutiny?

He doubted that, but at the same time, it felt cowardly to leave Katara to do all the emotional work. That had been part of why she and Aang hadn’t worked out, and he didn’t want to set a precedent for her that _every_ relationship would be like that. He wanted to help her, in every aspect. Not that she _needed_ help, so to speak, but so that she knew she had it if she wanted it. Support.

If only he had someone here, in the Fire Nation, he could speak with on the matter. But his friends were few and far between within the borders of his own country, especially since Ty Lee was in Kyoshi right now, being updated on the events of the Summit and canoodling with Mai. His uncle was in Ba Sing Se, obviously, and both he and Iroh were hesitant to have him spend too much time in the Fire Nation, lest it appear that the Dragon of the West had installed his nephew as a figurehead, and was ruling behind the scenes after his birthright had been stolen out from underneath him by his brother.

It didn’t matter that Iroh was content running a tea shop in Ba Sing Se, it didn’t matter that the throne held no appeal for him. It didn’t even matter that he’d said multiple times that he would make a poor Fire Lord, and that it had taken Lu Ten’s death to make him see that. Those in the Fire Nation who saw Zuko as disrespecting traditions, saw Iroh as a liar and a traitor. They hadn’t come to those conclusions because of evidence, but because of one hundred years of propaganda stacked against the favour of people like Iroh and Zuko. Reason wouldn’t change their minds.

An idea came to Zuko then. Dangerous, possibly. Difficult, probably. Ridiculous, certainly. But an idea. And he was long overdue a visit, anyway.

* * *

To call it a ‘cell’ was probably inaccurate. It was far nicer than any of the cells in even the prison within the royal walls, where Iroh had spent several weeks before the end of the War. However, it was still a far cry from the opulent royal rooms that anyone who grew up inside the palace would be accustomed to.

Though the room was more than capable of being brightly lit, it was often in darkness, and with a wave of his hand, he lit the sconces. The firelight illuminated the figure sprawled out on the bed, lazily, languorously, wretchedly. Azula. The Mad Princess.

“I didn’t know the Fire Lord was making an appearance today,” she drawled, not looking at him. Her hair had grown back in over the past three years, and she’d suffered to let someone cut it. This did a little to bring back the image of the girl who had once believed she had known everything and could do anything. “I would’ve cleaned up.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Zuko said, picking up a chair that had been knocked over, and sitting opposite her. He was equal distance between the end of the bed and the door to the room. At his own insistence, he hadn’t let either of the guards enter. His sister deserved a modicum of privacy, at the very least. And they both knew she was more than smart enough to know attacking him outright would get her nowhere. “How are you, Azula?”

She snorted. “Don’t act like you came here out of any concern for _me_,” she said. “I’m not so mad that I lost my sense of time.”

Zuko sighed. “I did want to check on you,” he said, “Once every two months… it isn’t enough, Azula. I wanted to know if you’d like me to… come more often? Or…”

“I’d like you to give me that _crown!_” she snarled, snapping her head up to look at him. The hand she had braced on the bedclothes clenched tight around the fabric, almost enough to rip. Her other hand, propped over her bent knee, was curled into a fist.

“I’m the first-born,” he told her patiently. “Which means that I’m first in line, and I’m your older brother. I want to _help_ you.”

She scoffed. “That’s not what you want,” she said, turning to look off to the side. “Mother can always tell when you’re lying…” she added softly. Zuko clenched his jaw to keep back the sudden stinging in his eyes. Nothing hit quite the same as seeing his little sister speak about their mother, especially now.

With a sharpness that echoed who she’d once been, Azula turned back to him. “So what do you want?”

He swallowed. “I… I wanted to ask your advice.”

Azula’s eyes widened, genuinely taken back. “You want my advice? Why?” She knew she was smarter than Zuko, she knew she could better fool people, better predict how they would act, better tell just where to apply pressure to get what she wanted—but he never seemed to have any interest in those sorts of things. He only ever wanted Uncle’s wisdom. He _never_ wanted _her_ opinions.

“You always had a way of convincing people to see your perspective,” he said. “You’re… persuasive.” It was more than that; she had a talent with words that he’d never mastered, despite all his hours of lessons on public speaking, he wasn’t capable of giving a speech on the fly. All of the speeches he gave at Summits were written and drilled and memorised until he could give them in his sleep. He could affirm people’s suspicions, but Azula could give them entirely new ones. “I need to know how.”

Azula cocked her head. “It’s been three years, Zuzu,” she said. “Why now? Unless…” A grin crawled up her face, twisting her features into something less than sane. Mirth had always been the thing that gave her away; just how fragile she really was, how any child with such hefty expectations would be. It was little surprised she’d crumbled when all her foundations had been wiped away; her friends, her status, her conviction that nothing and no one could best her in a fight.

“You don’t want my advice on politics, do you, _brother?_” she said, smiling in a way that made her mouth seem disconnected from the rest of her. “You’ve given up on convincing those stuffy old bats that you deserve to be Fire Lord, that our family conquest was wrong. You want to convince someone of something else, don’t you?”

Zuko swallowed. Even when her mind snapped, she was sharper than anyone realised. Had she been willing to accept his help, she could have been an incredible diplomat. Better, even, that Katara, he reckoned. But that was only part of the reason why he tried to keep his hand outstretched, in the hope that one day, she would take it.

Azula’s interest in just what Zuko wanted seemed to ground her a little. When she had something to focus on other than her intermittent hallucinations of their mother, she was almost like the girl from the last summer of the War. Zuko had long since given up trying to recover the little girl he’d grown up alongside. Ozai’s poison had seeped into her so long ago, he almost couldn’t remember a time where she hadn’t been, in some way, cruel. Consumed by a need to prove herself as above everyone else by stamping them all into the dirt.

But he held onto those memories all the same, in the hope that something of her remained. Of the sister who had loved him. Of the sister who had been scared by thunderstorms and asked to sleep in his room. Before it had become clear she wasn’t just a firebender, but a _prodigy_ firebender, and expectations had been piled upon her until she was so crushed under their weight that she had only been able to grow in the direction people let her.

“You like to think we’re so different, Zuzu.” Azula murmured, sounding so very like the last three years had never happened. “But you know the truth—the only difference between us is our skill. You want to be able to control people like I could, you just don’t know _how_.”

He scowled. “I don’t want to control people,” he said, “I want people to understand my perspective—”

Azula cut him off with a cold laugh. “Oh, you still think there’s a difference!” she crowed. “How is it, that _I’m_ the younger one, and _you’re_ the naïve little baby?”

Zuko’s scowl deepened, and she watched him, smirking. “Now,” she said, “Who is it you want to convince?—no, wait. Let me guess.” She gave a smile that was all teeth. He half expected to see fangs. “You surround yourself with hard-headed brats, but you could ignore just about any of them, if you wanted to. You have the _power_ to do that, even if you won’t use it. _But_…” Her smile widened. “You can’t ignore the _Avatar_. Not without risking another war.”

He must have reacted somehow—some micro-expression must have given him away, because Azula’s eyes flickered with triumph. “It _is_,” she said, “You want to convince the Avatar to do something different. We might have something else in common, after all!”

“We’re nothing alike, Azula,” he said, voice very measured. “We share blood. That’s it.” _but we could share so much more. A family again. Friends. A life. If you let me help you_.

But if they had one thing in common, it was their own stubbornness. He hadn’t accepted Iroh’s help, no matter how often it’d been offered, until he himself had been ready to admit he was lost. He would just have to wait and hope that Azula would realise the same.

“Oh, Zuzu,” Azula sighed. “You really are every bit as stupid as when we were kids. Now tell me what you want to convince the Avatar of so badly that you’d suffer to come to _me_.”

Zuko swallowed. “Aang is… loyal,” he said carefully. He didn’t want to give Azula more information that necessary—though he doubted she would ever speak to Aang or Katara or Sokka again, unless she became willing to seek help. Disrespecting Aang in front of her was… rude, at the very least, to Aang. And considering his status, probably a little dangerous. “He won’t leave something alone without good reason—conviction. I’d like to help him realise he can… let things go. Move on.”

Azula’s eyes, bright and gold as ever, snapped to stare at Zuko when he said this. “Move on,” she echoed. Her eyes glazed over, and with a pang Zuko knew she was seeing their mother, some part of her mind that was kinder, and for that, shattered the rest—such intense dissonance that the strain was too much. That kind part was telling her something, deep down, she already knew. She’d always been observant, after all. Always known where exactly to apply pressure.

_I’ll show you lightning!_

She may have lost her mind, but she hadn’t lost her wits. She remembered what she’d seen that day, she remembered having her suspicions when he’d finally defected fully, and even before then, in the caverns of Ba Sing Se. But even she had never thought her brother would so fully reject every tradition of the Fire Nation, so fully turn his heart and mind away from the royal blood that deigned to flow in his veins.

Once again, it appeared she’d miscalculated.

“Oh, Zuko,” Azula said quietly. Her voice was almost, soft. Almost kind and pitying. “Why am I not surprised? Even deep down in your heart, you’re attracted to the worst option.” The one that would ruin him, that would break him. The option that could well spark a civil war within the Fire Nation, or forever sour international relations towards the Avatar and maybe even the other Nations. The option that would break at least one heart, and probably more.

He would have been touched, if Azula hadn’t been smiling as she’d said it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah, it's been so long! I'm sorry! This past month has been _hectic_ with uni work, results, etc etc. But this was a fun chapter to write, so hopefully it'll be a fun one to read, as well! Hopefully posting should be a _little_ more regular from now on!


	28. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Katara and Zuko mull over how best to explain to Aang their new relationship, and independently come to the conclusion that maybe explaining isn't the best way to convince him they meant no harm.

Azula laughed at him, coldly delighted by his predicament. “You came to me because you want to convince the Avatar to leave his little Water Tribe peasant! That’s almost diabolical. I’m almost impressed.”

Zuko glowered at her. “No, it’s not,” he said, “I just want Aang to understand that I—we—we don’t want to hurt him.”

Azula’s eyes went wide. “_We?_” she echoed. “You’ve _already_ courted her? _Zuko!_” She smirked. “You say you don’t want to hurt him, too late! You’ve stolen the heart of the girl he loves—though I can’t say how you managed _that!_” She fully descended into cackling then, throwing back her head. “I don’t know whether to be annoyed that you’ve done more to hurt the Avatar than I _ever_ could or impressed that you didn’t even do it _deliberately!_”

“I don’t want to hurt him—and I haven’t!” Zuko insisted, “I want to know how to explain to him that I… me and Katara… we’re…”

Azula raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look at him. She watched a small flame dance between her fingers like mist. Not since the Agni Kai had she been capable of producing lightning, having lost her singular focus along with her crown. “You’re what? In _love?_ You think that will make a difference to _him?_ If Mai had gone off with, say, that Sokka boy after the end of the War, how would you have taken it?”

Zuko grit his teeth. “Sokka has Suki—”

“_Not_ the point,” Azula said sharply, clenching her fist and smothering the flame as she shot him a glare. “It doesn’t matter if the Avatar loves you like a brother or hates your guts: you stole the girl he loves. That sort of thing isn’t lightly forgiven, even by a bald little monk.”

“I didn’t _steal_ her!” Zuko protested, rising to stand, throwing out his arms, almost desperately. Even here, now, he couldn’t convince his sister of something they both knew was true. But she also knew he couldn’t convince a soaked man it was raining, and delighted in reminding him of it. “They broke up! And I… we… It wasn’t because of me!”

Azula shrugged. “Maybe not. Honestly, I can’t say I understand why she fell for you, but it won’t matter to him. All he’ll see is that _she_ is, ugh… _in love_ with _you_.” She rolled her eyes as she said it. _What _that little waterbender peasant saw in her brother, she had absolutely no idea. But the Water Tribes always _had _had strange traditions, like those silly little necklaces. Maybe being attracted to morons and traitors was part of the deal. If she’d wanted power, Azula didn’t see why she would’ve left the Avatar—or maybe he really was just as insufferable as she’d suspected. He always had seemed too good-for-goodness’-sake. “Add to the fact that you’ve apparently already _bedded_ her and—”

“How did you know about that?!” Zuko squawked. For some reason, he covered himself with his hands, even though he was fully clothes, which only made Azula laugh again.

“I’ve known you longer than any of your foreigner friends,” she said, smirking. It was, quite frankly, painfully obvious. The way he held himself, the way he talked about Katara—something between them had changed. More than a few words, something that made irrevocably clear that they were more than friends now; they had something very real to fight for, even against the Avatar himself.

Crossly, Zuko turned on his heel and made for the exit. “Never mind,” he said, “I’ll figure it out on my own.”

Azula chuckled. “See you I two months, Zuzu. _If_ the Avatar doesn’t dethrone you, first.”

That made him stop short, turn back to face her, one finger pointing accusatorily. “Aang wouldn’t do that,” he said, “He’s not like _you_, he wouldn’t use his power to hurt his friends.”

“If that’s really the case,” she said, “Why did you come to _me_ for help?” She cocked her head. “You don’t seriously expect me to believe there’s _no one_ else you can talk to about this?”

He didn’t meet her gaze. “No one in the immediate vicinity,” he muttered. Ty Lee wouldn’t be back for a few days, yet, and he wasn’t sure if they were on close enough terms to discuss his love life with her, in light of Mai. Not that Ty Lee would make him feel bad—that sort of thing wasn’t her nature—but _he_ would feel a little bad.

“Ugh.” Azula looked genuinely disgusted. “_Spirits_, Zuko, you need some friends. Friends whose girlfriends you _haven’t_ stolen away,” she added.

Zuko scowled at her. “Are you going to help me or am I just wasting my time?”

Azula gave an overlarge sigh. “Fine, fine,” she said, “You want my advice? Nothing you say or do is going to change anything. Nothing _I_ say or do is going to change anything. The Avatar is even more stubborn and cowbull-headed than _you_, he didn’t even kill_ father_ when he was going to scorch the entire world!”

Looking at her, Zuko just blinked. “That’s… that’s it? You don’t have anything better?”

Azula just looked right back at him, her amusement giving way to growing irritation at his obliviousness. “There _isn’t_ anything better. How are you still _that_ naïve? Everyone the Avatar respects enough who _might_ get him to change his mind died over a hundred years ago, and no one currently alive is powerful enough to _make_ him change.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Azula was probably right on that one. Aang never _meant_ to hurt or disrespect anyone, but hadn’t he done that to Katara for almost two years? Maybe he would understand as he got older, maybe he would learn to _really_ trust and listen to other people, but he and Katara couldn’t wait that long—the longer they waited, the worse it would be, and the harder it would be to convince him to be okay with it.

“Even _I_ can’t change how people feel, Zuko,” Azula then said, her voice resembling something more like normality than it had in a very long time. “I couldn’t change how Mother thought of me, how Father thought of me. And you can’t change the fact that the Avatar loves that peasant. Frankly, if you tell him that the two of you are in a relationship, he’ll probably want her _more_—you know how children are with toys.”

“Katara’s not a toy,” Zuko said crossly, “And Aang’s not a child.”

“He’s, what, fifteen? That’s younger than you were when you first met him.” Her gaze was unusually measured, almost sane. “And besides, if you really believed that, you wouldn’t have come to me, asking which words would sound sweetest in his little airbending ear.”

For a second time, Zuko turned away from her to leave. This time, Azula did not call out to him, and this time, he did not look back.

* * *

With the continued efforts of the He Ping Cheng project, Zuko had promised Kuei he would come to Ba Sing Se shortly after the Summit’s conclusion, as soon as he’d had some time at home to sort out his affairs, and his affairs included many more things than the question of how to break his one of his best friend’s heart.

The scholarship initiative, as well as several other economy-spurring plans, had been instated with conclusive success, and the Fire Nation was both better funded and happier because of it. Now that the War was over, people had time to put their skills to constructive, rather than destructive use. Schools were being refurbished; slums transformed into community housing; dreams fulfilled and educations improved. The Fire Nation would be a hub of advancement, and the height of advance, Zuko reckoned, was minimal work for maximum comfort. No one would have to worry about an injury that made them unable to work for a few weeks resulting in their being homeless, or starving. No one would be trapped because they hadn’t had the opportunity to get a good enough education. The War had stolen a great many livelihoods and cultures, but that also, to some extent, included those of the Fire Nation.

At his instruction, the Royal Firebending Academy’s training regime had been completely revamped, focussing on the Sun Warriors’ teachings of fire as energy, vitality and life—not rage and destruction. Almost accidentally, this had turned into a nation-wide therapeutic exercise, now that people no longer had to cultivate feelings of frustration and resentment in order to effectively firebend.

It had been an exhausting three years, but the efforts of his labour were finally starting to bear fruit, and it was worth every moment. Now, the largest and most pressing matter on the collective minds of the Council of Fire was (somewhat to Zuko’s chagrin) the question of who would be the next Fire Lady.

Ever since Mai had gone to Kyoshi, most of the Council had given up on their hope that she—the daughter of a respected general—would fill the post, despite her suitability as both a Fire Nation noble and someone who had, in the last days of the War, declared her loyalty to Zuko, if not the Avatar. A few days ago, the final nail in that proverbial coffin had been decidedly hammered in place, with the arrival of a letter. Ty Lee, who had been spending some time at Kyoshi as part of the rebuilding efforts, would be returning to the Fire Nation capital to resume her position as Zuko’s head of security. Mai, as her girlfriend, would be coming with her.

Zuko could honestly say he was happy for them, and not at all jealous, just as he could also say he was both utterly shocked and not-at-all surprised at the fact that sweet, bubbly Ty Lee and stoic, quiet Mai had found love together. It was both absurd and encouraging—if two people as starkly different as them, with only a few (admittedly key) aspects in common could make it work, then surely, so could he and Katara.

Of course, the well-being of a Nation (and in some ways, two, considering Katara’s pseudo-royal status) didn’t depend on Mai or Ty Lee marrying someone suitable and having many heirs.

Truthfully, Zuko didn’t really know how he felt about having children someday. On the one hand, he was still young—broadly speaking. Twenty didn’t seem all that much older than seventeen, when he’d assumed the throne, and he didn’t feel much more regal or sure of himself yet. The idea of being responsible for a whole other life—in a much more complete way compared to governing over capable adults—was terrifying. But on the other hand, he’d never really been presented with much of a choice. He was the Fire Lord, the first born; it was his duty to continue the line. Opting out of children had never really been an option, and with how insistently the Council were pushing for him to settle down and marry, it was clear that that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

He _liked_ children, well enough. They could be funny, and remarkably astute when adults could be dense. He enjoyed how fascinated they were by everything, how simple their worldview was, unmarred by expectations and the complications of adulthood. He _liked_ children, but he didn’t know if he _wanted_ children. That was a lot of work, and a huge commitment, and it didn’t seem particularly fair to himself _or_ the child (or whomever he had that child with) if he wasn’t completely sure it was something he wanted.

For now, however, the Council just wanted him to get married, and that was presenting such a long list of issues all by itself that, at least for now. If he told them about Katara, some would be delighted he’d picked a Water Princess, a master waterbender and an ambassador. Others would be horrified by all three of those things. Some on the Council had even disliked Mai as a candidate because she couldn’t firebend. The only recent non-bending Fire Royal had been his mother Ursa, and that had only been because she’d been descended from Avatar Roku.

Zuko was unendingly grateful that Aang had not pulled any ‘_now here young man, listen to your great-grandpa_’ shenanigans ever since finding that out, though at the same time he liked to imagine the Council’s faces if Aang tried it with them in earshot. It would almost be worth it.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” said one of the Councilmen. His name was Azi, and he was probably the most fervent supporter of a non-Fire-Nation Fire Lady. Notably, he had been the Councilmember who had asked Katara to dance on behalf of Zuko, back at the first Summit. “I’ve heard that a member of King Kuei’s royal court, Lao, has a daughter, Xiuying!”

Upon hearing this, Zuko was reminded of what Katara had heard from Captain Nakai last winter, that Lao was obsessed with economics and thoroughly boring. A moment later, he realised why Azi was bringing this up.

“…and how _old_ would Xiuying be?” he asked, not bothering to hide his weariness with this subject.

Azi beamed, “I’m given to understand that she is almost nineteen, my Lord,” he said. “That’s a suitable age for a young woman to be married, wouldn’t you agree?”

Zuko raised an eyebrow. “I thought Earth Kingdom dignitaries preferred to engage their children rather younger than that,” he said. “I’m sure she’s a lovely young woman, but why doesn’t she already have a suitor?”

“Times are _changing_, my Lord!” Azi insisted, “After the displays put on by Master Katara and Lady Toph Beifong during the end of the War, many young women all across the Four Nations have been insisting upon the right to marry not just who, but _when_ they choose.”

He had to admit, he was quite impressed that Katara and Toph had, almost fully by accident, sparked some kind of cultural revolution in the women across the Four Nations. He hoped it stuck around. “And on the subject of choosing when and who they marry… why bring this to my attention? Has she requested I visit her?”

Zuko knew that, no matter how high up someone was, unless they were Aang (i.e. literally the Avatar), no one could really _request_ him to visit them; _they_ requested to come visit _him_. But the Earth Kingdom’s lingering disdain for the Fire Nation was as unmistakable as it was entirely justified, and the noble class in Ba Sing Se were particularly clever at weaponizing every custom to their advantage.

“Well,” said Azi, “I’m sure she would be quite honoured if _you_ requested a visit with her, my Lord!” Zuko wondered if this Xiuying even knew she was being talked about, if she even cared. After Lady Satriva at the first Summit, he’d learned to be wary of what the women of Ba Sing Se thought of him. It was obvious, of course, that anyone who married him would gain significant political power, if they didn’t have it already, but he would prefer to marry someone who didn’t _want_ it—or, rather, someone who didn’t want him for it.

He expressed this to Azi as he sighed. “I appreciate what you’re endeavouring towards, Azi,” he said tiredly, “But is it so beyond the collective understanding of the Council that I would like to marry someone because I _love_ them?”

To his credit, Azi did give a sympathetic look. “It’s not, my Lord,” he said, “But Mai has… taken a different path in life, without you. And it’s not just the Council that’s watching to see what kind of statement you make with your marriage.”

Zuko huffed. Of course, the whole Fire Nation and a good portion of the other Nations had their eyes steadily trained on any political statement he made. Only a portion of the Fire Nation genuinely wanted a return to war and conquest, but they tended to be the powerful officials who could not be simply gotten rid of by Zuko saying so. The very mechanisms there to prevent one leader doing too much damage were also obstacles to a different leader making significant improvement.

“The statement I’d like to make is that I love them and want to spend the rest of my life with them,” he said, a little petulantly. It was an echo of the teenager he’d never been able to be; petty and childish. A hint of a childhood both his parentage and his parent had stolen from him. He was not so naïve as to ever think his marriage could ever be a statement as simple as that. He would need to make a decision about his marriage eventually. But he liked to pretend he still had freedom in that choice by staving it off as much as possible.

“It was only my… suggestion that you use this opportunity to socialise with some of the Earth King’s closer advisors, for the sake of He Ping Cheng’s success,” Azi told him. “But seeking out the company of some eligible women _would_ sate the appetites of some of the Councilmembers.”

“Not the ones who’d prefer I marry a Fire Nation native,” Zuko said archly. Azi looked down.

“No,” he agreed, “Not those ones.”

* * *

_Dear Katara,_

_No doubt you got Suki’s letter, offering to help us on the project—since she and Sokka have a lot of experience with ‘rebuilding’. Unfortunately I won’t be able to get Aang’s opinion on it for some time since I’m headed to Ba Sing Se to talk with King Kuei about it. You’re welcome to come, or to go see Aang—just let me know what decision you make, and what he says?_

_Yours,_

_—Zuko_

In the chilly wind of a summer being shooed away by oncoming winter, Katara gripped the letter tight in her hands, smelling the faint spices that seemed to cling to everything of the Fire Nation—even, it seemed, their words.

_Yours_, the letter said. And he was, just as she was his. In the breeze, despite its chill, she could feel the gentle touch of his fingers over her skin, his lips. She craved the warmth of him, the steadiness, the passion. They were young and fierce and ready to take on the world—literally. And after that night… it was a different kind of pain when she went to sleep at night, alone. Instead of frustration and confusion, it was the distinct sense that she was lacking something. Not a part of herself, for she was not lacking by virtue of being alone. But a part of her happiness; her life. Just as being without Sokka, or her father, or Suki or Toph or Aang hurt her, but in a different way.

_Yours. _Such a subtle detail, but it had to be subtle when anyone could open those letters. They’d been more reckless before, but they’d had less to hide then, too. What she really wanted—_needed_—was to talk to him in person; to him _and_ Aang, and to figure it out together.

She _had_ received Suki’s letter, in all it’s blatant amusement, but it just so happened that she’d received a letter from Aang, too, telling her he was going to Ba Sing Se to help Kuei. She wondered if he even knew Zuko would be there, and reckoned he probably didn’t. Not that Aang knew anything about ‘them’ (she was sure he would’ve said something—secrets were not his style) but maybe he would pick up on Zuko behaving more skittishly and awkwardly than normal. Then again, perhaps she was underestimating Zuko’s capacity to be naturally skittish and awkward (not that he didn’t have good reason to be), but he’d become significantly more confident and composed in these past three years. More like a man.

The idea of calling Zuko a ‘man’ felt bizarre to her. Not because he was childish, but because… she _knew_ him. Like she knew Sokka, and Aang. ‘Men’ were her father, were Iroh—always older, always wiser, always more mature. She was an adult, yes, but was she a _woman?_ It felt like some nebulous achievement that, by everyone else’s metrics, she had gained. But not her own.

What made a woman? The moon blood? She’d had that since before she’d met Aang. Lying with a boy? Hardly. It had been exciting and wonderful and strange but not world-changing. Marrying? Having children? That seemed so… _possessive_. Was she only a woman if she belonged to someone else? A husband or children?

In some ways, she was reluctant to find the answer to her question, clinging to the last vestiges of a childhood only half-lived, cut short by war and terror and grief. A dead mother and an absent father. She liked to pretend she was still a girl, sometimes, because the world felt too large and complicated. She stood to lose one of her dearest friendships because of it. Because of things women and men did.

But she was a master waterbender, a war hero, an ambassador, and even a princess to some people. She’d done more in three years that most ever did in a whole lifetime. She’d grown up faster than most people, too. In calling herself a woman or a girl, none of that changed who she was, what she’d _done_. Labels were, in some ways, meaningless. It was actions, not words that defined people.

And it was actions, not words, that made her next meeting with Aang such a source of anxiety. And it was actions, not words, that would make him see that neither she nor Zuko had ever intended to hurt him.

The fact it had taken her that long to realise it made her feel ashamed. It didn’t matter what she said to him, she had to _show_ him. To show him she still cared for him, that she hadn’t acted out of malice in leaving him, in going to Zuko, and that she and Zuko really were in love—childish as it sounded. _In love_ still seemed like something out a fairytale, something from Oma and Shu; the shortcut to knowing a story would end dramatically, and not without hardship.

Sometimes she wondered if she and Zuko were going to be like Oma and Shu. Torn apart by war and differences, even though the War was over. They were even building a city with her and Zuko’s help (along with others’, of course). But Oma and Shu had not had friends like Sokka and Suki and Toph to help everyone see. And she was sure that, with the right words, _and_ the right actions, Aang would see, too.

With a sigh, Katara looked back down at the letter, at the graceful curve of Zuko’s handwriting, and reached for a pen and scroll of her own. She hovered a moment above the paper before she began to write, painstakingly carefully, a request to His Esteemed Majesty, King Kuei.

She needed to go to Ba Sing Se.


End file.
